I know that the days they have left with me are numbered.
My senior citizens are Rosie and Griffin. I try to conveniently forget their ages but Rosie is...13?
and Griff? Who knows! When I found him, the vet I took him to said he was probably 3, maybe older
and that was 12/13 years ago?
Rosie always walks around the perimeter of a room, weaving under things and staying out of the line of traffic or maybe she's just staying out of the path of the lumbering giant.
(Blue never tiptoes around anyone. He will be sleeping and then when he gets up he just stomps off to wherever, sending little dogs scurrying out of his way.)
Many times I find Rosie sleeping in a corner, I will continually glance over at her and watch to see if I can see her chest rise and fall.
I can't resist saying her name and she'll open her eyes and look at me as if she's saying -
"Quit bugging me!"
Then there's Griffin.
Griff just lays down wherever.Sometimes he's bent up against a wall in a weird uncomfortable looking angle
but most times he's laying in the middle of the kitchen.
I'm so used to just stepping over him.
Now even Blue steps over him.
The other day I looked down at him and nudged him with my toe.
I paused and stared.
I took the side of my foot and lightly put it against his side and pushed.
I slowly glided him a few inches across the floor.
He didn't move.
It felt like an invisible hand was squeezing my throat.
Then my thoughts went to Lily, my niece. She has grown up with him.
She adores him. I dreaded making that horrible phone call to her.
She would be heartbroken.
I slowly bent over to pick him up.
As I touched him, he jerked awake and waddled quickly away across the kitchen floor.
"Damn you Griffin!" I yelled after him.
He ignored me and went to lay on his bed in the laundry room.
Yeah, that's the worst part of having old dogs.