A sad realization - The anniversary of Bitz the Wondermutt's last walk.
As I was driving to the funeral home this morning to pay my last respects to a dear friend's husband, it occurred to me: Today makes 2 years since I took Bitz on her last walk.
Bitz was starting to fade again after a decent attempt at a rally over her liver infection, and I'd started to accept this was it. Sydney was being particularly high energy that afternoon and Nat didn't want her pestering Bitz, so she decided to take Syd for a walk to wear her down.
A couple minutes after they left I walked down the side hall from the bedroom, toward the closet where we keep the dog's leashes. She was walking up the other side of the L and met me next to the closet, sat down and looked back and forth from me to the doorknob, the way she did when she wanted to go for a walk.
I told her, "No, Puppy Girl, we can't go for a walk. You're too sick," and petted her behind the ears the way she liked. She didn't wag her tail. She looked again and gave me the saddest look I've ever seen. It was as if she was trying to say, "Don't let the last walk we took be the last one we take. I've got one more in me, I know it. Let's go out in style one last time, just the way we used when we didn't know how many walks we had left." Then she raised her foot and pawed at the air.
What else could I do? I suited her up and led her slowly to the door. When we crossed the threshold onto the step she sat down like she always did to wait for me to close and lock the door. The sky was clear and the sunshine was warm on us both.
We made our way left, past the couple of houses and to the end of the street. Then we crossed and turned right, walking very slowly and haltingly down to the other end, about 15 houses or so. We saw Nat and Sydney walking away from us when we got near the corner, but we didn't call out or try to catch up. This was our time, the last outing of two partners who had been through hell and back together. We crossed back to our side of the street and, even more slowly, made our way back to the house.
I let her in, and she walked over to her bed in the living room. She was panting, but not out of breath. Just before she laid down for a much-earned rest, she barked. One full, loud, deep throated, "WOOF!"
I knew what she meant, "Thanks!"
No, Baby Girl, thank you for giving me the gift of that one last walk. It was your last gift to me, and I treasure that one like no other. Those 10 minutes are the one good memory I have of the two weeks it took you to wear down and leave me. I can't ever thank you enough for that.
Bitz was starting to fade again after a decent attempt at a rally over her liver infection, and I'd started to accept this was it. Sydney was being particularly high energy that afternoon and Nat didn't want her pestering Bitz, so she decided to take Syd for a walk to wear her down.
A couple minutes after they left I walked down the side hall from the bedroom, toward the closet where we keep the dog's leashes. She was walking up the other side of the L and met me next to the closet, sat down and looked back and forth from me to the doorknob, the way she did when she wanted to go for a walk.
I told her, "No, Puppy Girl, we can't go for a walk. You're too sick," and petted her behind the ears the way she liked. She didn't wag her tail. She looked again and gave me the saddest look I've ever seen. It was as if she was trying to say, "Don't let the last walk we took be the last one we take. I've got one more in me, I know it. Let's go out in style one last time, just the way we used when we didn't know how many walks we had left." Then she raised her foot and pawed at the air.
What else could I do? I suited her up and led her slowly to the door. When we crossed the threshold onto the step she sat down like she always did to wait for me to close and lock the door. The sky was clear and the sunshine was warm on us both.
We made our way left, past the couple of houses and to the end of the street. Then we crossed and turned right, walking very slowly and haltingly down to the other end, about 15 houses or so. We saw Nat and Sydney walking away from us when we got near the corner, but we didn't call out or try to catch up. This was our time, the last outing of two partners who had been through hell and back together. We crossed back to our side of the street and, even more slowly, made our way back to the house.
I let her in, and she walked over to her bed in the living room. She was panting, but not out of breath. Just before she laid down for a much-earned rest, she barked. One full, loud, deep throated, "WOOF!"
I knew what she meant, "Thanks!"
No, Baby Girl, thank you for giving me the gift of that one last walk. It was your last gift to me, and I treasure that one like no other. Those 10 minutes are the one good memory I have of the two weeks it took you to wear down and leave me. I can't ever thank you enough for that.