Yesterday I said goodbye to Louie. He looked more like a collie than usual, with his long nose pointing at me, at H, at E, then down into his fluffy tail. He watched us suspiciously: something was up. Why were we sitting on the floor in a circle around him? Why were we petting him, watching him, crowding him, giving him bacon grease? Why weren't we knitting and drinking tea and talking story and letting him rest?
He was very, very tired and needed help to stand up and lap at the cup of grease. The fur on his head was very soft, but the rest was matted with urine crystals. So, I limited myself to petting his head and ears and he continued to watch me. It was wrong that he didn't jump up and smile at me.
Today I looked through old notes and found two haiku from the Sept 13, 2008 dog-sitting session:
Innocuous walk,
But each fenced yard holds danger:
dog confrontations.
Louie loves me, sure,
but what about voice command?
Not so much, it seems.
Bwahahaha, the second one!
ReplyDeleteI know there is at least one more floating around-- about his fluffy tail preceding you as you two walk along. I remember verbatim only the last line, which is "I love you, Louie."