A sudden reduction in our pack size
Here I am. Listening to the generator do the weekly readiness test. Listening. For what? No idea. I am steeped in my own ignorance. Almost as if I was tasked with judging a figure skating contest. Did the person fall down? No? Gold medal performance, I guess.
Today was the last afternoon with a dog. The dog. Our dog. After more than a decade, now with major health issues, we made a choice on his behalf. Before anyone fell down the stairs, or worse.
This was an interesting animal. Joined our pack when all the basics had already been learned. So we knew exactly what a scratch at the door signified. He had two beds and a set of bowls that were always full. Luxury, according to the foxy neighbours.
We never played fetch or catch. Never tried to rescue Timmy from a well. The usual visitors were signaled, including foxes, delivery trucks and the occasional visitor. He did not recognize our car, despite repeated trips, so that also worked as a reason to go and see who was outside.
He survived a name change, a major move across provincial borders, and a very long trip out to the Pacific and back. Probably remembered more than me.
No idea what happens next, other than the simple things. Store the food dishes, and clean the beds. Lose the collar, but not the tags. Tell those that need too know, and ignore the rest. We live far away from the city that few will notice. Other than us, of course. A big hole in our daily lives.
Like most stories this one ends simply.
