Letter To My Aging Dog

Dear Precious Mercedez:

When we went for our walk today, you YAWNED.  I couldn't believe it.  Walking was always your favorite pastime.  I looked at you and realized you were tired - aging and BONE tired.  It was hot outside and you wanted the coolness of your room. 

Was it that long ago when I came home from work, you would run in circles with great anticipation of a walk?  Didn't matter what the weather was like -- didn't matter if it was dinner time. What mattered was Mom was home and you could now go for a walk. Weekends were even more exciting. Weekends meant a trip in the Jeep to the mountain where you could run until you were ready to collapse.  The last time I took you on one of those runs, three wolves crossed our path and I decided we would rethink this weekend trek.

Then it happened.  I came home from work one day and the throw rugs in the entry way were askew. When I walked into the kitchen, the rugs in there were in a pile.  What on earth happened?  And where were you?  You didn't come running to the door, leash in your mouth, tail wagging.

Dogs - M is for MercedeZ

Mercedez, Sades, Sader Bader, and most affectionately, Mama's Girl.  When my daughter Rochelle was 14, I brought home a new puppy, Velma.  Velma and her siblings had been dropped off at the dog pound when they were only two weeks old. They were far too young to be away from their mom, and when I saw her, it was instant love.  She is half Black Labrador and half Dalmatian.