Old pets, annoyances, and love. One day’s experience.
Today was challenging. I had three back to back priorities. The last one was attending an important zoom call only to have my dental appointment run late and have the road to my house (and tech) blocked by a fallen tree. I was forced to have my zoom call on the phone, parked whilst a good neighbor (or two) cleared the tree debris. But we got ‘er done.
I arrived home to discover the power in our neighbourhood was out — and it took quite a while to be restored. All well and good. The price of country living. I lit the fire and helped John thread the power cords from the generator on the back deck into our house. I could feel things starting to get to me once the noisy generator roared to life.
Then Freckles, our old blind Bassett hound three years past expiration date, started up. She barked (bellowed) repeatedly. Non stop. Woof! WOOF! WOOF!!!
Food? Water? Walkies? We tried it all.
But she kept woofing. My patience was wearing really thin. Even John’s began to wear.
We were grateful for the reprieve when dog loving visitors arrived and lavished her with love in the parking lot. Blessed silence.
Back in the house Freckles started barking AGAIN. And again we jumped through all the hoops to appease her. John finally gave up and let her wander around in the front yard. Then he brought her back in.
When she finally crawled onto her bed, I crawled off the couch to join her. She was trembling.
I took one of her clean dog blankets to the dryer and tumbled it warm. Went back to the old girl and wrapped it around her. We snuggled a bit. She settled down.
Sometimes we are relieved that our dogs can’t speak English, because they know too much, and might spill the beans. The rest of the time we wish they could just tell us what’s wrong. So we could fix it. But many things in life defy fixing.
Finally Freckles is unconscious. Dreaming happy basset dreams I hope — legs twitching as she runs happy and young in her unconscious.
I figure we have a few hours until she hits the bedroom door with the battering ram of a forehead, as per design. Then it’s “fwap fwap fwap” of the ears subtly announcing her presence in hopes to rouse one of us to let her out. If that fails there will be a shrill mewl.
John will sleepwalk her out.
The things we do for love.