Oliver

I am grateful for these days. Long lazy ones where I am doing little aside from people watching, chatting, wandering the web, eating good food, and best of all, being with my Oliver. I am grateful for these days because it is coming more apparent to me that he will not make it to another summer.

So far, it's been a good summer. A great one, really (he's still here, after all!) I thought he went missing last week-end, but as it turned out, he had followed my dad down to the docks and dad decided to take him along for the boat ride. His first boat ride! At fifteen years old! Not bad.

He is slowing down appreciably. Physically, he is not the dog of last summer. Not much  running around, chasing the younger dogs. I am thankful that he seems to know his limits and lays low consciously. He does wander from time to time, but never goes far. If he wanders with any conviction, he returned panting in excess; a side effect of his heart problem. It simply doesn't pump quite right and he breathes heavier to compensate, albeit unsuccessfully. So, we are all conscious of this and sort-of encourage him to not move around so much. It's good that he is happy to simply be. That is clear. Last night he laid on my lap on the couch, purring/groaning/moaning louder than I have heard him do before, for a very long time.

I think his taste buds are going along with his sight and his hearing. He doesn't eat as much as I'd like him to. So now, because he is growing a bit skinny, I give him treats more often, small table scraps, plus I add a very small amount of ground beef to his kibble and he eats it right up. It's very exciting for him. He sort of bounces on his toenails in anticipation of the ground beef addition when he seems me heating it (I know heating it is silly, but it just seems inedible cold).

To look at him he still looks like a puppy. People say that all the time. They are surprised when I tell them his age when they ask. When I truly stop and look, he is an aging man. A sweet, aging man. I think about his antics in years past – running around like a wild man, chasing lizards, humping all the other dogs at the dog park, sticking his head out the window with such interest, attacking the mail as it came through the mail slot, and the general excitement for everyday stuff that only dogs can show.

It's a different phase I hadn't thought about witnessing. I guess I thought he'd just be one way until the end. I never thought I'd have an aging dog on my hands. He is not decrepit by any means, he is perfectly content, and his quality of life is great. He is not suffering. For this I am grateful, but the aging, the slow slipping away of him? I just hadn't thought about that part. I love him in any capacity, and I will continue to love him and hold on to him until it seems his quality of life is in jeopardy. I will not tolerate him in pain.

I worry about how he will go. I know it is morbid, but I cannot help it. I am crossing my fingers it will be in his sleep (please, let it be in his sleep!). But, if he is awake, I hope that I am with him (please, let me be with him).

Now I will wipe the tears of anticipatory grief from my eyes, because after all, there is nothing to grieve - he is snoring at me feet! He is still here! And he is still happy to follow me around and lay at my feet...or the feet of whomever might scratch him behind the ears next or pass him a treat. And we are all happy to give it to him!

I don't know how he doesn't get a neck ache!

I took this while trying out a new ring light. Sort of as magazine portrait effect.

Waiting for treats. You'll notice his bum isn't quite sitting. He's sort-of faking it.