It’s such a privilege to be in the company of a senior dog. I look at Angelo, and sometimes I see the one-year-old who showed up on my doorstep when I needed him most, and I realize that he and I have both grown older. Our movements are more deliberate.
Don’t get me wrong. He’s amazingly agile, and faster than a speeding bullet, and sometimes stubborn as a mule. I, on the other hand, can only claim to be as stubborn as a mule.
We’ve been through a lot together, this dog and I. I like to think that maybe I taught him it’s okay to trust. I know he’s taught me a lot about patience, about the value of a LOT of walking, and about stopping to appreciate the moment. He’s tried to teach me about the joy of rolling in dead things, but I passed on that.
And we both grow older. Day by day, time reminds us that we don’t have forever on this earth. We hear of friends, both human and canine, who are freed of this mortal coil, and who leave their friends and family to mourn.
And so, each day, we do what we can. We get up. We walk. We look at each other even when we’re not right beside each other. We take solace in the eye-to-eye contact at which Border Collies excel.
We take and pose for pictures. One of us rolls in the dust. One of us knows the secret place that Collies allow only their trusted humans to touch. We chase rabbits. I revel in the knowledge that my buddy will clear the skies of thunder and flying machines and ravens who are unknown to us.
We write. I read aloud to him. We keep each other company with our snoring and our dreams, though only he runs in his dreams.
If there is a better way to grow old, I cannot think of it, I do not want to think of it. And one day, when one or the other of us dies, I know that the only true solace will be in remembering all the time we’ve spent together, all the challenges we’ve faced, all the friends we’ve made. If we’re lucky, we will have made a few people smile, a few people think, and yes, even a few stop to cry a tear that needed to be shed.
Until that day, we walk. We dream. And if my heart and all I believe in is true, after that day, we will find new pastures to walk, new rabbits to chase, and new lessons to learn. So when you get to heaven and you see a crazy hermit and a crazy fast Border Collie hopping from cloud to cloud, wave and say hi. Don’t expect music, though. Neither of us can sing or play the harp worth a damn.
For all our friends mourning losses, be kind to yourselves. It’s hard to go on some days. But know this. The ones you mourn are still with you, though silent. Your heart is big enough to hold not only your love, but theirs, too. And if a little of that love slops out and hits others, well, that’s what love is for.
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