Let me tell you how I came to cross over the Rainbow Bridge. Let this be a lesson for other older dogs who are trying to act like they are not aging. Boomer dogs.
I had not been feeling well for a long time. I am 12, or I was until yesterday. Like many older people my horizons had shrunk: to Granada Park, the food and under Mommis’ bed where I spent most of the day sleeping because my body hurt. Actually I’ve been pretty “done” for the past six months, although I could hide it well because I’ve always been stoic. As a puppy, I was forced to be a forager before I met Mommis, who rescued me.
Although I still loved to forage.
Mommis is is one of those people who doesn’t like to think she’s getting older, so she dragged me on these 2 mile walks every day to Granada Park. I guess that kept me in shape, but I also learned how to make her take me off the leash when I couldn’t keep up and then how to find every shortcut across the park while she and Bruce and Sammy kept walking around in circles with Sharon and Carol and that upstart Jackson dog, who tried to get Mommis to pet him all the time. I had to keep growling at him and putting him down on his back to show him whose Mommis it was.
But I knew Mommis was not finished with me. So I took things into my own hands.
Last week Mommis parked on a different side of the park, and that created my opportunity. When she let us out of the car, I saw a duck. I bolted after the duck, knowing I was endangering my life, but feeling like George Bush Sr. skydiving at 90. What the hell is life if you can’t catch a duck?
I caught the duck. Some woman rescued it before Mommis could get to me. But I knew I had caught it. I went back to Mommis. But that’s when the shooting pains began.
But I had to finish the job. Next time Mommis took me out for a walk, I chased a cat. But I didn’t catch the cat, I only injured myself more. Mommis took me to the vet, who gave me pills. I could have told her they wouldn’t work.
But I had to get worse for a week, not even able to put my left arm down, before Mommis decided to let me go. I knew she’d get there, because we are both yogis. In my later years, Uncle Max called me Zen Dog.
So yesterday she took me, and I laid down in her lap and we said our goodbyes. Later I saw her go out to lunch with a blind man who thankfully brought his guide dog to comfort Mommis. And later that night, a wake for me with all her friends at a quaint Peruvian restaurant. Zena’s Mom, Ringo’s Dad, Juan, Bluey’s Dad. Only Jackson Dog’s mom wasn’t there; she’s sick.
This morning I manifested to Mommis behind a cloud with a silver lining. She recognized me right away. Buppy in the Sky with Diamonds.