Someone was telling me about their aging pet the other day – hips are going and incontinence is setting in. I said, “I’m so sorry” and I meant “I know this means you have to start thinking about that pet dying.” And they were so moved that I’d give a crap. Like, they started tearing up. At the time I thought that was a lot of emotion. But then I come home to my buddy:
Who greets me at the door, follows me around, plays with me, curls up with me when I’m reading, and keeps me company when Hubs is late or I’m sick in bed. Right this moment she’s quietly overseeing my blogging efforts with eyes half closed, emitting a light, approving purr.
I get it. I’m grateful she has many years on her, yet.