Last night I took the pups out for a walk. My neighbor's two energetic maltese girls, and my two elderly citizens. Tilly, sporting a new very short haircut, resembled a newborn pink mouse on a leash. With the hair gone I can see that he has lost weight. Almost frail to carry. His appetite for food and walks has diminished this summer, and I think his vision and hearing are fading or gone. No longer charging up Temple Street like a puppy, as he did just this past spring, he now walks a few tremulous steps and waits as if he needs to reorient himself with the new space he has found. I put him on a leash and he refuses to walk altogether, so I stand next to him and reassure him with little pats as he tries to navigate. He seems scared. I am too. Very.
When still on leash we encountered a puddle and I gently tugged the leash to guide him around it. His legs gave out and he fell on his side. Leave it to say I scooped him up and was glad no one was around to see me get emotional about it. This is my baby. It might be time to use the nice stroller Auntie Valerie sent the kids. Thanks, Valerie.
Tilly's potty habits are not usual, and he is having trouble "going" in the right places. Honestly though I don't really mind that after dealing with Toby for so many years. I've always joked that Tilly pees magical rainbows and it is true. Just the fact that he is still here and almost fifteen makes this true. We will cope. He spends most of his time sitting on a poofy bed, sleeping. He gets up a few times a day to drink, nibble, or pee, and then it is back to bed. Such is life for an oldie, I guess. Yet I hate to see it happen. It physically hurts. 99% of the time I am in denial but the reality is creeping in. Maybe because there have been so many wakes and funerals this summer that I feel like the veil between worlds is exceptionally thin? I don't know.
What I do know is I look over at the doggie beds and see my two best friends resting peacefully amidst a pile of soft toys that Ellie has collected. I hear my happy parrots chuckling in the back room, and am greeted every morning by little Boncuk as he flies to my shoulder to welcome me when I enter the kitchen. That I am carefully guarded all night by two beautiful feline patrol officers that come and go as they walk their little kitty beats in between my night time naps. If I stop noticing all that needs to be done around here, all the Big House Improvements that are needed that I can't manage right now, all the Little House Tasks I Should Be Doing, and all the freelance work I Should Be Organizing, even the artwork I Should Be Making, life is perfect. At least it is life. In these special moments of awareness, I'll take it. Cheers.