Imagine the dog a female German Shepherd. Black and tan, about seventy pounds in weight. A weathered face, grey and white hair around her snout. She walks strong, though perhaps a bit slower. This morning during the emergency trip to the vet, the room quieted and she drew appreciative glances, when she emerged from the examination room.
That is Ada and she has always had presence.
She was looking tired today though, she was looking old. The x-rays did not reveal much and we were still waiting for the results of her senior dog workup. In the meantime, there was of course little we could do. Give her love and care, encourage her to try food and water. Mostly, she just wanted to sleep.
Sitting with her late at night, the house quiet, I am watching her, of course. She is breathing steadily and her eyes are mostly closed. She is sleeping, but it is hard not to worry, not to let my mind wander. This beautiful dog has been with us for eight years. I am a better person because of her. Seeing her listless or in pain, seeing her the way she has been today pulls at my mind.
I know her better than most anyone else does, yet I wish I understood her more clearly right now. I wish I could do more. Instead, there is nothing. She needs rest, as do I. Eventually, I shuffle off to bed.