Spring and the Garden Path Moon
Wednesday gratefuls: Shirley Septic. Kep, better in the afternoon. Still not eating. Except some canned salmon. Joe and the offers on the house. Pick one and get the money in the bank. Jon, a memory. Kate, always Kate. The Parkside. Evergreen Medical Practice. Labs. Walgreens. Prilosec. Work on the walkway around Lake Evergreen. Alan. The Wildflower. Doverspike. Coming tonight. Ruth, Gabe, and Mia. Here for three days. Today.
Sparks of Joy and Awe: Grandkids that want to spend time with me
Kep’s coughing subsided after he got up and moved around. He didn’t eat his kibble, however, just some canned salmon. Doverspike will come today after he finishes work at Mountain Park Vet.
Kep just got up today. Coughing, like yesterday. We’ll see what Doverspike thinks this evening. Glad Ruth and Gabe will be up here. They love the Kep, too.
Dogs. So intimate a part of our lives. Friends. Companions. Unconditional love. So many memories with them over the years. Kep and Rigel. Boyfriend and girlfriend. They wandered the back yard together, hunting for critters. Kep cleaned her ears. Slept next to her. He loved her and was sad when she died.
Is there a heart that cannot see the power of these wonderful animals? I suppose. But only because like Pharaoh their hearts have been hardened. Against kindness and love. These last days. So hard, yet also special. The final care that we can offer to them. Returning the love they share so easily with us.
It reminds me in ways too close to tell of Kate’s last days. When the love shone bright, but the body became too weak to carry the soul. Near the end a dog turns to the ones who loved them. Imagining, I think, that we can take care of this as we have all the other ills and ailments. But death has no cure. It comes to those of us who live. All of us.
Kep drank some water, but passed up even the salmon this time. Oh.
Not sure I can go further with this today. This heart. These tears. Enough for now.
