I noticed today that his eyes are a little droopier than usual, and that he has a new cyst on his hip. The weather was beautiful, so we sat outside together on the front steps, with his head on my knee.
I feel selfish, calculating his discomfort as only a human can. Dogs are so stoic. I can invent whatever stories I want, about how much or how little he's suffering, but I know his days are numbered. It's been reduced to this. I count the days, not sure when to stop.
Death is somewhere in my calendar. It just needs to be pencilled in. Scheduled. But I can memorize this. The feeling of this dog's head on my knee. I just need a few more minutes, I promise, and then I'll know it by heart.
I feel selfish, calculating his discomfort as only a human can. Dogs are so stoic. I can invent whatever stories I want, about how much or how little he's suffering, but I know his days are numbered. It's been reduced to this. I count the days, not sure when to stop.
Death is somewhere in my calendar. It just needs to be pencilled in. Scheduled. But I can memorize this. The feeling of this dog's head on my knee. I just need a few more minutes, I promise, and then I'll know it by heart.
my thoughts are with both of you.