An Old Friend Falters

She always loved to run. A mixed cocker spaniel and golden retriever, she would sprint back and forth across the yard, a blur of blonde fur.

We would go hiking, and she would race ahead on the trail, then come running back at full throttle, rounding us before heading out again, as if to say "come on, slowpokes, there's a whole world ahead of us!"

Horses, other dogs, bear scat, hornets nests she stumbled into or deep water she fell in left her spirit undeterred.

Not so age.

On a hike during Labor Day two years ago she seemed slower than usual. Slowness gave way to fatigue. Fatigue led to collapse. We had to carry her out. Arthritis now choked her bones. She was 13 years old, after all.

Other things began to change too. She used to sleep in bed with us. For whatever reason, she began sleeping on floor instead. Then that changed and she didn't want to leave the first floor at night. She used to, when I worked at home, lay at my feet in my second floor office. Then the stairs got to be too much for her.

Yesterday morning I called to her and her younger "brother" to go for our morning walk. For the first time in her life, she refused. She looked at me, leash in hand, raised her muzzle, then settled her head back down on her paws and sighed -- no walk today.

It is the way of things, to grow slow and lame, to fail. Yet ebbing fire still fights the cold. She still has some good days left in her, but they would seem few in number.

I dread the coming loss of a dear friend. But in my heart's eye, I will always see that joyful rush of fur and paw, forever on the trail, a trail leading -- everywhere.