Saturday, January 30, 2010
Of late (really, her whole life, but more apparent now) she should've been called "Shadow", as "me and my Shadow". I cannot go anywhere in the house without her seeking ("hunting", lol) me out. If I get up to make a cup of tea, go downstairs, to the front door, to get the vacuum... to pick up a piece of fluff - she's moving and following me.
This is no mean feat. Hunter is over 14 years old now and when she sleeps, it is very soundly. I find myself having to hunch down and pet her first thing in the morning and look for a "pulse". Sometimes I can even roll her over (with concern) before she stirs. But... during the day, her job is to not let me outta her sight.
Sometimes it's a great feeling to be adored that much. Sometimes, it's claustrophobic as she is so worried she won't "hear or see" me move, so she lies against my feet or directly in my path and I cannot move for fear of tripping. Or, I get cramped for not moving and not wanting to disturb her.
Each day is a gift. She is really slowing down and we notice it especially this last couple weeks. She has a growth on her belly which has gotten bigger and at some point might interfere with movement or encroach on her organs. Sigh. We have our four-legged companions for such a short while. I treasure each day now and try not to get cranky as I maneuver around her and/or almost fall (literally) over her. She doesn't see as well either. Her senses are failing her.
All this is more apparent today as my friends have made that difficult and painful decision to send their four-legged friend to the Rainbow Bridge. They have scheduled "that" final appointment for the morning. Sally will be at peace. They have made the right decision. But I am here for the living. They will need me and my menagerie to help them through it.