Our time has run out. We really can’t keep telling ourselves that he’s still okay, that he still has a good quality of life. The vacant look in his eyes, the stumbling walk, and intermittent collapse of his back legs are all the unavoidable shouts that we can no longer quiet.
If you are sick and tired of hearing about my sick old dog, and our fight to pretend that he is still a happy pup, it’s time to press DELETE. But, if you’ve been through the same arduous experience with a much loved pet, and seriously considered looking into limb transplants for dogs, you can relate to our struggles.
This weekend, we had to deal with the ugly realities of time’s passage, and its resultant wear and tear on controlling bodily functions. When it happens to people, nursing homes are the logical next step, however unpalatable. But when it involves our beloved pets, that is not an option. Given what a bad rap care homes have, most of us wouldn’t even consider such a fate for our furry friends. I really don’t want to overthink this exception, and what it may or may not say about our priorities.
We know that we are hiding behind the fact that this house is a rental, and predominantly covered with pale beige carpet. The fact that the cleanup falls on Glenn most often means that he has been spending his week’s vacation on his hands and knees gathering up noxious material. Then comes the hard work of scrubbing this pathetically thin old rug until it once again comes close to resembling its grayish yellow former self.
With the arrival of Monday morning, one of us will have to work up the conviction to finally make the call.
Please forgive us Peter……