I was all down on my life and myself just now, and I came across this picture...
This was Polar's last day. Literally. I had found him an hour or so earlier, unable to move his back legs, and laying in his own urine, as usual. He was pulling his 170 pound body along the linoleum floor as much as his partially-working front legs could muster.
The red harness he is wearing was what he wore for 6 months all day and night, since he got hurt. This allowed us to lift him and steady him as he walked out to go to the bathroom, and let us ease him down back onto his bed.
I watched him lose control of his back legs-swinging them out, having them buckle under him, or slide out completely in awkward angles. And I righted his feet back onto his pads when he would unknowingly stand on his knuckles.
I watched my sweet and curious boy, who used to watch the birds and the leaves in the trees, get to where he couldn't even lift his head upward. I saw the embarrassment in his eyes when I would find that he had peed in his bed, then laid in it all night.
When I made the call to have him put down that morning, I slid him over to his window, and for the first time in months, somehow he was able to lift his head to watch the blowing branches. His ears perked up, and his curious george face scrunched up.
You see, he was always looking and searching and questioning and following us around the yard, checking us out with his (semi) good eye. He would leap about and let out a deafening woof (he couldn't hear how loud he was!) when he smelled the other dogs, and would flip around like a circus dog trying to get them to play with him.
Even when his pride was broken, he was still a slice of sunny sky. So not even when he got hurt, or when I was holding him upright as he peed and pooed, or when I braced him during that last injection, did he ever stop fighting or being a big, happy, mushy-faced goofball. The life and love was in his eyes, and still he fought that damn needle with all the heart he had.
And yet here I am sitting here feeling sorry for myself because I can't *eat* as I want to. SHAME. ON. ME.
So I dedicate my journey to health to my special boy, who never let any disability or rainy day dampen his zest for life and his love of a challenge.
|My Best Boy|