I’m sitting at the kitchen counter, the lights dimmed, and Tobae already in bed. I’ve been outside with Boomer who is in wonderful spirits, but whose hindquarters just aren’t working for her. After a good night’s rest she will bark as we awake and seem energetic, but most of the day she builds strength for her next trip outdoors. We’ll be saying goodbye soon.
She is Mark and Daniel’s dog, joining us 13 years ago when they were not yet 10. She was a rescue dog, the one that sat on command as the family walked through the pound. Smart dog! The vet thought she was certainly one, perhaps two, so now close to 15. For her size…85 pound…a very old dog. Unknown breed, but kind, gentle, protective.
She loved the mountains. Our packs and boots, but especially her own pack was a signal it was time to go. She was Tobae’s animate GPS, always able to retrace the route.
And so we listen to the happy barking yet watch sadly as her body fails her. And adjust for we have a few more days with her and we are very sad.