Skookum in Her 16th Year - Aug 4 2024

 

For Skookum in Her 16th Year

Aug 4 2024



Even though the old dog

is skin and bones

and slower than Methuselah

she still sheds like stink,

loves to eat,

and greets strangers

like the second coming.

But her breathing is hard

tongue weak

hearing nearly gone.

She has a wobbly back end,

bad teeth,

and often overflows

her bright pink diaper,

leaking nasty diarrhea

on my treasured rugs.

There are bouts of confusion

when she circles aimlessly,

and when you hold her close

that old person smell

is unmistakable.

Which, if not the universal scent of decrepitude

then has somehow crossed

from human to dog,

our millennia

of living together

somehow tweaking their DNA.

She was my first dog

as well as best teacher,

who taught me to be in the moment,

take joy in simple things,

and express emotion unguardedly.

And, of course, forgive;

the unconditional love

we’ve come to expect

of man’s best friend.

Which our forbears

wisely bred into them;

presumably

how they would have liked to be themselves,

but — being only human — failed.

Clearly, the end is near,

and if nature doesn’t intervene

it will be up to me to choose.

But in the meantime

in the reprieve that is summer

I feed her soft food,

we take short slow walks,

and she stands unsteadily

watching the younger dogs retrieve

as eagerly as she once did.

The solipsist in me

can’t help but think

of my own fast approaching future.

Because to have seen her entire life

pass before my eyes,

   —  from a helpless pup

snuggling with her litter

of little squirming sausages,

into the rheumy-eyed gaze

of frail old age   —

is like witnessing mine

compressed into a few brief years;

a cautionary tale

of loss and decline.

I can only hope I will show as much forbearance

and strength of character,

not merely clinging to life

but taking pleasure where I’m able.

The saving grace

is that she neither remembers how things were

or knows what's awaiting her.

If ignorance is bliss

then she is blessed with it.

You can consider your life in stages,

count the years in coffee cups,

or go by the calendar.

Either that, or add up your dogs;

all the canine companions

whose too short lives

have passed through yours.

Reminiscing, as you look back,

but still grieving nearly as hard;

the bittersweetness

that makes you laugh

as well as cry.

A depth of feeling

that might seem inappropriate for a dog,

but is easily understood

by those who’ve also lost

a pet they loved.

The consolation

is that you gave them the best life you could.

And that you took care,

faithfully there

through house-training and milk teeth

the infirmities of age.

And there

to give comfort

when the time finally came.

Skookum is currently 15, and on Aug 12 will be entering her 16th year of life. Old for a Lab!

And as it is with a first born child, it’s the same with your first dog: every stage of life is a first as well. So all new to you, and therefore that much more intense, as well as harder, than it will be for the next one.

As I’m learning through the challenges of Skookum’s old age. Which is pretty much all work, no fun. But less than what you owe for the years of companionship, loyalty, and love.