Imbolc Valentine Moon
A bit jittery here on Shadow Mountain. Vega goes to the vet in about half an hour for her surgery, the amputation of her left front leg. It’s a drastic choice and it will change her life, but, we hope, also extend it. And, yes, it’s not cheap either.
When Kate and I married, now over 25 years ago, we brought my bed from my condo and have used it as a guest bed. At some point Vega found her way into the blue room we used for guests in Andover. She found the bed just right. It was hers from that point forward. If we forgot to close the door.
Last night I took my laundry downstairs and forgot to close the door to our Black Mountain Drive guest room. Sure enough, on her last night before surgery, there was Vega, sprawled out on the bed, very pleased with herself. I’m glad I forgot.
She’s been a special dog from the beginning. When we went to pick her and Rigel up from the breeders, Vega had a ten foot stick in her mouth. Her six littermates had their mouths on it, too, running around Junior’s backyard.
Vega is a lady of leisure, but she also has an iron discipline that demands certain things, like feeding schedules and going to bed, happen when they’re supposed to happen. That is, when Vega thinks they’re supposed to happen. She’s gentle about it, first chuffing, blowing air around her big cheeks, then barking softly. At some point she’ll sit, assume her most regal pose and stare. Then, bark again. Perhaps a bit more loud.
A sweetheart. A calm and gentle soul.
