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Yet another Liz post...
I was watching her just now in the yard. Our neighbors have a pair of what they call "American Bulldogs" (look like pit crosses to me, but what do I know?) that were romping in their pen as my dogs were out in our yard after breakfast. Liz looked at them, then moved a few feet closer, then looked again. She continued this until she got to the fence, and then stared at them a good long time.
I was wondering as I watched her what she was thinking. Was she wishing that she could still run around like that? Was she remembering long long ago being a puppy on a greyhound farm? Or was she remembering her own puppies? She never barked or made a sound, just stood there watching with her perfect little ears raised and her head cocked a bit to the side.
I've noticed that I'm noticing EVERYTHING with her lately. As much as I try to tell myself that it's just another bad patch for our Old Gal, something is tugging at the back of my brain telling me this one is different. Maybe it's the lump I found on her side that I can't get my fingers all the way around. Maybe it's the increased frequency with which she's been having accidents in the house. Maybe it's the Parkinsonian tremor she's developed, or the Alzheimer's-like way she will go to the water bowl four or five times in a row, seemingly because she's forgotten she was just there.
Whatever it is, I'm afraid. I'm afraid of this house without her AAAAAWOOOOOF in it. I'm afraid of seeing Profile on the couch without Liz curled up next to him, rear end in the air. I'm afraid of sitting at my desk and not having a dripping wet nose come goose me in the elbow when I'm not looking.
And most of all I'm afraid of never again hearing that contented sigh/snuffle when she finally finds the spot in the sun by the glass doors. I'm afraid of life without my Lizzard.
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