Doddering On

These days Bess Anne often makes me think of Robert Browning's poem that starts, "Grow old along with me."  I'm not so sure about the next line that says the best is yet to be, but I'll settle for what we've got.  In people years Bessie is approaching 105 and has earned the right to slow down.  We mosey around at a snail's pace together and that suits me fine.  I don't hurry anywhere anyhow.  Lately she's been having a "senior condition" and wakes up about 3:30 a.m.and needs to go outside.  "Oh, no," I, who had been sleeping soundly, think, but it's not the sort of request one can refuse.  The trouble is that I have to stay awake to let her back in.   She goes right back to sleep, of course.  It takes her all day to eat her bowl of kibble in small helpings.  Sometimes she sleeps in in the morning and misses treat time.  That's okay; she doesn't remember.  Bess has never been a yappy dog.  Now if she wants in or out, being almost totally deaf she's forgotten how to use her "inside" voice and really startles me with one very loud bark.  I'll say this, she gets my attention!  She spends most of her day sleeping, daydreaming, and following me whenever I leave the room.  She's my constant companion.

Steve and I had thought Bessie's predecessor was an incomparable dog.  Dogie died quite suddenly at age 9 and we were devastated.  He swore we'd never get another dog because Dogie was irreplaceable.  I lasted two months and said I couldn't live without a dog in my life and went on the hunt for a puppy and Bessie Anne came into our lives and our hearts.  She's helped me through some rough patches in life.

Reality tells me that one of these days (hopefully years) she'll leave me.  There are times now that I'll watch carefully to see that she's breathing in her sleep, hoping that today isn't the day.  It's not being morbid, I'm just trying to get prepared for the inevitable.  It's hard to imagine life here without my dear friend.  There's a line in Tom T. Hall's 1972 song, "Old Dogs, Children, and Watermelon Wine," that says, "Old dogs care about you even when you've made mistakes."  She's put up with me her entire life.  Patience is a small price to pay for devotion.