Empty corner, empty window
In her last few weeks, Mocha spent a lot of time in her bed, which consisted of a folded-over futon, topped by a dog bed that Mocha herself selected at Petco, its minimal cushion topped with three inches of memory foam wrapped in a blanket, with another blanket on top of that, garnished with miscellaneous pillows and whatever toys she chose to bring in. She liked taking apples and any food that she was given that she particularly treasured (corn cobs, anyone?) to her bed to eat it there...very comfy, very luxurious, very her.
All her time wasn't spent napping, of course; she just was getting thin and weak and probably cold (the heater vent is right by there too), and was conserving her energy for the more important moments. She was either smart or instinctive that way; probably both. She had learned that the noisy window really wasn't that scary, and it afforded her a view of the goings-on in the outside world, that she really didn't have the constitution to spend a lot of time in any more.
So she would sit there observing and when one of us got home, of course there would come the barking and panting and grunting. So cute. And then usually the getting up and the meeting at the front door. And so absent now, that window is so empty and that corner, first her safe haven, then her sickbed, now has returned to mostly-empty status. Korbin likes it, though; actually he always has, and Mocha was disinclined to kick him off, opting instead to stare at me about it. Sometimes she would share it with him if I encouraged her. So funny she was about that. Well now we have taken to topping it off with his little bean-bag-bed, so he snoozes there at times. It must be extremely comfortable. His presence can be comforting, though I jokingly wonder if Mocha would approve. She probably would though.
All her time wasn't spent napping, of course; she just was getting thin and weak and probably cold (the heater vent is right by there too), and was conserving her energy for the more important moments. She was either smart or instinctive that way; probably both. She had learned that the noisy window really wasn't that scary, and it afforded her a view of the goings-on in the outside world, that she really didn't have the constitution to spend a lot of time in any more.
So she would sit there observing and when one of us got home, of course there would come the barking and panting and grunting. So cute. And then usually the getting up and the meeting at the front door. And so absent now, that window is so empty and that corner, first her safe haven, then her sickbed, now has returned to mostly-empty status. Korbin likes it, though; actually he always has, and Mocha was disinclined to kick him off, opting instead to stare at me about it. Sometimes she would share it with him if I encouraged her. So funny she was about that. Well now we have taken to topping it off with his little bean-bag-bed, so he snoozes there at times. It must be extremely comfortable. His presence can be comforting, though I jokingly wonder if Mocha would approve. She probably would though.