A weekly series of riffs in 200 words
Our dog Thor who left us last year for other dimensions would have been celebrating his birthday on 4th July so I planned a 200 word dedication this week. However, I find it is still too raw.
I changed tack and began researching some interesting facts about dogs but was soon reminded that every single dog in the universe shares a commonality; be it expression, whiskers, ears, stance or smile. I cried and stopped looking for dog facts.
Finally I thought I’d write about cats or other animals but, guess what? Virtually all the online sites have pictures and every single animal reminds me of Thor so, once again…it ended in tears.
I ventured off to do the grocery shopping. On the way, I passed two cute Scottish terriers chasing each others’ tails and a huge German Shepherd sitting in the passenger seat of a work ute , his snout poking out of the top of the window, drool marking a trail down the glass.
Avoiding the pet food aisle at the supermarket is a shopping strategy I still employ but it gets easier each day.
Then I spied the shampoo we used to wash him with:
- ‘No More Tears’ Shampoo
The Answer to Friday’s Fictionary Dictionary…
Ignivomous means spewing forth fire.
Ignivomous is also a Melbourne Death Metal Band [thanks to Bob for that info]
How do you say goodbye to the most faithful friend you ever had?
How do you find a way to let go?
Look at my dear boy Thor.
Surely the most handsome Labrador in the world
And you should have heard him sing when I played the harmonica.
But his bones got old.
He was too tired.
The pain was too great.
His big brown eyes, dulled by a milky tinge, looked up at me pleadingly.
We gave him more tablets, stronger tablets that made him sick.
The vet gave him more injections which seem to spark him for about an hour and I wonder now if it was just the placebo effect because he knew how hard the young Vet – dear Holly – tried to help him with her potions and powders and jabs and suggestions.
Years ago, I heard of a Labrador who lived to be twenty and I thought that sounded a most suitable innings.
But Thor’s German Shepherd hips said otherwise.
Over the past few months, he had days where he reverted to a puppy again, prancing around in the back yard with a ball in his mouth, one puppy ear flipped back, clear puppy eyes laughing, big puppy mouth smiling, hips moving with the ease of youth. But then, the next day, he’d limp around like a worn-out old man, groaning in pain when he had to lift himself from the comfort of his bed.
And Old Father Time marches on.
Mother Nature takes her course.
Fate does what it will.
Today, the hours ran out.
We’d travelled all the avenues, overturned every stone.
Puppy Thor’s time was up.
Goodbye old Friend.