Twenty-six hours later, you were back with me. Bruised, battered, and scarred but hard. Tough dog. One of my many favorite Bernie Moments was riding home with you that night. You exhausted, us exhausted. You sat, the full weight of your body on mine. Tight, you and I. Always tight.
I can't help but think you must have been an ailing dog by that time, but you never showed it. I sometimes wonder, fear, if I thought you felt better than you really were the last few months, maybe even year. You were always you, though, never much worse for the wear--nothing was ever more than some kind words, some soft pats, and a big bowl of kibble could take care of.
Such a simple but deep relationship, pure.
We slept well that night, yes we did. Sleep well tonight.
No comments:
Post a Comment