Monday Blues

***Bernie chillin' like a villian; December 6, 2008***

Mondays just don't work for me. Sunday, though, was wonderful, Bernie was her old self through and through. Unfortunately, she tweaked her left foreleg last night just before bed and was limping like mad. She's had a mild to moderate limp there for a while but nothing like last night . . . and today. It really bummed me out this morning that her leg was whacked. She looked awful as we took our standard stroll up and down the sidewalk--to loosen her up everyday, you know? My neighbor saw us and commented something in the realm of, "Uh, you need to 'let her go' NOW." I catch his drift, but it's not applicable, yet. I'll work on her leg tonight.

This is my second "old dog," though Bernie has weathered the aging process much better than my first. It's tough, the life of an old dog, even under the best of circumstances. I look in Bernie's eyes everyday to discern whether she still wants to be here--so far so good. I've lived the life of an old dog the past few months, lounging and homebound with her more than usual. Loyalty is a two-way street, you know. I've edited and project managed numerous dog books, and thus have read creepy tales about how owners set their old dog alone in a field as a means to the end. How anyone could do that, I don't know. I remember at least one of the books said, your dog needs you more than ever when she gets old, physical assistance as well as encouragement. I try to live that and very rarely am sad with her. She was utterly insecure for several years, so I conjured ways to make sure she was peppy and gay. I bet I've said, "Bernie's a good puppy!" more than a million times, with more to come. I've mentally penned a dozen or so songs for her, I still sing them to her. This little party won't last forever, so you have to enjoy it while that's still possible. We do that, Bernie and I.

And I do enjoy it, taking care of her. I always have. When we moved into the apartment in Sacramento, I promised her I would walk her vigorously and religiously if she played the cooped up inside all day game. I kept my word and continue to do so. She has my heart to the end and beyond. The beyond part is what troubles me, lacking her physical presence. Like every living organism, behaviors and abilities are dependent upon stage of life, capabilities increasing and ultimately decreasing. Both are gradual, the latter can be painful to watch and experience, but it's all beautiful. It's fascinating to have watched, save her first nine months and last days, her entire life cycle. It's wonderful more than sad, I'm so grateful to have been a part of it. My little buddy not by my side anymore will be sad. A bit scary, too.

She's relaxed now, stretched out on the floor, breathing softly. Happy, comfortable. I brushed her last night, so she's extra fluffy and pretty. She's still at the ready, whatever I want to do she's all in. Limp or no limp, she'd follow me to the end of Earth right now if I asked.

I'm going to try and post some pictures within the text later. I learned how to do that today. Plan on tomorrow's post being a little brighter, I have some fun news for you. Till then . . .