Tuesday, April 16, 2013



He always knows. No matter how quietly you get out the leashes or how you smuggle the show gear out to the car, he knows you're going to a dog show. He sits beside the cabinet where the gear is stowed as you bustle about attending to the last minute details. His ears flat, a hopeful gleam in his eyes, he looks at you. It is as close as he will come to begging. You pause for a mom
ent to rub behind his ears, guilty at leaving him again and then you think back.....

You remember it was not so terribly long ago, when it was just the two of you, striking out in the early morning before the sun came up. Everything was bright and new and life was simple. He was the most beautiful dog in the world, and your goal back then was to win that ribbon...maybe a blue one. But those years have passed and now you're off to show younger, more beautiful dogs.

You move on - its nearly time to go. He gets up to follow you from room to room - old age and arthritis narrowing his limits. You tell him that he will have to stay home, and you turn away before his tail droops slowly to the floor. And so you leave. You see his head at the window as you drive away.
Print Friendly and PDF

No comments:

Post a Comment

Note: Only a member of this blog may post a comment.