I am helpless so much of the time now. Her breaths slow to the point that I think each time I lay my hands on her, this is the time she’ll be gone. I pet her once sleek side, now jagged with her old bones prominent speaking sweet nothings till at last she inhales and rolls her eyes forward. My hound dog that would eat anything, truly anything – nearly killing herself several times in the process, most recently just 2 weeks ago, now has very little appetite. I roust her as gently as I can and help her wake up legs that used to vault her into the air so easily.

It used to be a game. She would stand on the edge of the kitchen and I’d be cleaning up and would casually toss a tidbit over my shoulder. It never ever hit the ground. Now those legs show so little resemblance to those cat like limbs. Everyone is faster than her now.  I hope she dreams of it, those long evenings at the dog park where she would race any dog out there, just to feel the wind, and she’d always win. Plenty of dogs that should have caught her didn’t. Only those that took the inside track as she spun a huge circle around me whooping and hollering for her victory ever managed to make her stop. And then, in true feline form, she’d whirl around not tolerating anyone to sniff her behind.

Oh, it wasn’t always easy. But this is a different kind of hard.  At 15, there isn’t anything to do besides give her broth and pain pills. Cancer, the vet expects. It is getting more and more of us to the point it seems almost inevitable. Yet, it doesn’t make it easier knowing. To see her fight an unseen battle while deep asleep pulls at me. She is going to lose the battle soon and I have to make the decision of when to help her find peace. I wait and watch, hoping for a sign from her that she is done trying. I cry often.

Hound dogs are so good at looking woebegone anyway, but she with her silky triangle black ears and her round doe soft eyes out did most. She made it look sexy, and like any daughter that held that look, yes- she was trouble. She knew she could get away with a lot more with a bit of eyelash batting and a little bit of a saunter. She played them all. But not me. I saw her for what she was and still loved her. She constantly tried to get away with things and when I called her on it, she’d get mad and peed on something I valued when I wasn’t looking. Oh yes, we’ve had to work hard on our relationship. I’ve cared for her like any other challenging child- she is and probably will remain, the best lesson I have ever had in forgiveness and patience.

Every time she lays her head down, I let her go and fight the urge to just sit by her side waiting. After letting more than a few hours go by, I kneel and slowly coax her awake again and help her outside. She walks no more than ten paces to do her business these days.  But still barks feebly at wild trespassers, their scent caught in the late winter air.

We’ve been together longer than my marriage lasted, longer than I’ve known my daughter. Her dark shape has tripped me countless times going to the bathroom at night. Her ear splitting bark has ruined many a tranquil thought driving down the road. But she’s been with me, all this time. All the ups and downs, all the chapters I wish I hadn’t gone through, all the triumphs and failures- she’s been with me. And although she was often jealous, petty, and conniving, she hasn’t held this against me after all these years. And I, don’t hold it against her either.

Poor thing. She deserved to be part of a hunter’s pack like that man I met in the Anchorage airport. I was so excited to meet someone who trained their black and tan hounds. “How do you get them to come back?” I asked. “Oh,” he said “I just throw an old shirt out where I turned them loose and come back and check it every week or so. Sooner or later they’ll come back.” It’s been a long road. 

Tuesday, Take it away: I was helpless...[Hero of love]