|Old Lady Pep earlier today during a game of doctors and patients...|
She was the kindly old surgery receptionist.
How many near misses can one dog have? I do not know. All I know is, about five years ago I started regretfully preparing for her "last summer", "last winter"...
A few months ago, I was sent into fits of tears over several days as Pep looked to be slipping off the perch. When that happened, I wrote this post and expected it to be over with within the week. But no. I'm quite surprised - followed closely by a kind of anticipatory dread - that I wrote that in July and here we are, over two months later, and I'm still astounded she's here.
Now Pepper has a swollen right foreleg. She doesn't seem to be in any pain. But then, she never did complain. My gosh, the pain this dog has absorbed. All of mine, all of Steve's. She has been a true godsend.
But now she is falling. Falling down stairs to get to the back yard. Stumbling and butting her head into the ground or losing her footing and bashing into the wall opposite the back stairs. I've laid soft matting there so the scrapes aren't so harsh.
I'm getting close, Internet. I can't let her hurt herself and I am monitoring it closely. It's not quite time for me to intervene. But if it becomes apparent, of course I will have her put at peace without a second regret.
Our li'l Princess! How I will weep for her - how I do already - when she finally goes. Those doleful eyes. And you know what, she still leans in to me for cuddles. She hasn't done that for quite some time but she's begun again these past few days. I would assume it's her giving me last comforts and goodbyes.
But with this old battleax.... I just don't know any more!
|Whaaat? Can you speak up, deary?|