Yesterday,Theo was at deaths door by all appearances,he was doing that old dog stop in inexplicable places and just stand there staring at the floor pre - death thing.We thought for sure he was going to snuff it.
I spent the entire day playing old tapes of Sullivan in my head,and staving off the tears-I had to go hide a few times,lest I be seen weeping and labeled a pussy,causing a beat down to prove that I wasn't-I just love my dog.
I shared my news with like minded friends and dog lovers who commiserated with me.
And lo and behold,I come home and he's back to his grumpy old self.
I was relieved,and I've loved on him accordingly.I was braced for his death and was almost disappointed that he disappointed me-he just won't give up the ghost.Maybe he's trying to teach us something-if it's how fucking sad can you get before you break-he wins.But I think he just loves us too much to go just yet.
In my life I've had lot's of dogs-Buddy was the greatest of all time,and Irene is an awesome little girl,but Theo is special.A big dog cursed with dysplasia from the get go,but lives to 13 years old...covered in tumors,hardly any hair on his tail.
But when he snuggles up to you on the bed you know you are loved.
His rumbles,his barks-his way of communicating,he is one of a kind.
And to think of a life without him just fucking kills me-I know it's coming,and probably soon...
And all I can do is love him-how many cuddles and pets does it take to repay a lifetime of canine dedication?
I don't think there's an answer to that.
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