Sunday, July 27, 2008
Looking backward...and forward
Oreo, staying out of the kitchen at my command. Noses and toes don't count. (And Sam's nose and toes are visible in the background.)
My Oreo broke her leg in a freak accident. I'll never know for sure what happened (although I think she and Sam may have collided in the living room), but I was outside getting groceries out of the car when I heard her scream and came in to find her standing on three legs, with the fourth leg swinging.
Oreo died the next day, following surgery to implant a pin. She was 8 years, 4 months, and 10 days old.
It was more than two weeks after her death before I went grocery shopping again; and, to this day, I don't leave the dogs running loose in the house while I'm getting groceries out of the car. I tether Sam and Jacey to a post in the carport while I unload the trunk. In part, this is because Sam wants to unpack the groceries and stash the Ben & Jerry's someplace where I won't notice what he's done. (He's partial to Dublin Mudslide.) But also, it's because... well, just because.
Oreo was not an elderly dog when she died. 8 years, 4 months, and 10 days. Sam was born 10 May 2000, and I'm holding my breath through 20 September 2008. I'm not superstitious. Oh, no. But on 21 September 2008, Sam will become the oldest dog I've ever owned. I'd like to own a real senior, and I'd like Sam to be the first of many seniors I'll own.
Travis's mom has put in a request for 12 months of no drama: no cancer scares, amputations, illness, or paralysis--all of which she's had among the canine members of her household in the last year.
Me? I'm looking forward to taking a huge breath and letting it out in a sigh of relief on 21 September 2008.