It was a special day; Sabina and I mark one of myriad anniversaries. I was going to throw together a little chicken paprikash for supper, just because. The next time the sun rises, we'll go on a road daytrip with a picnic. It's been a bit since we've done that, the picnic aspect, that is.
It was a special day; he'd not gone walking with me in a bit. Gone are the days when Whistler could bushwhack up a twelve-thousand foot peak with me, and then, the next day, when I could barely walk, he'd herd-chomp at my ankles, wanting to know what the day's new adventure was. These days, two years later, a mile is an effort. What a drag it is getting old.
It was just the Bull's Head in this late spring mush that got the Rockies to make national news-ya'll do know it can snow here at any time of year, riiiiiiiiiiiiight? Whistler made a brave show of it. This part of the valley, in most places, seems the steepest. Even at a quarter mile, he was showing signs of fatigue. I did my best to encourage him. He did his best to keep up with me on my long shanks.
There's a point, after the ruins of the Diamond Mine, I am scrambling along terraced levels to another set of ruins, before coming out at the far east end of town. A residual of his IVS, when he gets tired, his equilibrium gets screwy. Even at the drop-offs by the Diamond, I had him on a leash, as to help prevent him pitching off the edge of the tailings. We reached the intersection with the 730 and headed home. I didn't do my usual loop, but that was fine. The two of us got to walk together, and that's becoming increasingly rare.
"Thank you for the company, lo jen" I said to Whistler as he achingly followed me home. "It was, as always, lovely."
It's hard to keep up with the increased metabolism/less longivity of dogs, but it always looks like each 5 minutes is totally new, and an increased wonder.
ReplyDeleteSounds like fun with the daughter, wish mine were in distance to arrage a thing like that.
It comes to everyone, the limited ability, the decreased range of things possible.
Cheers,
Mike
Sabina's the other half, though, mentally, her and the kiddo could be contemporaries ;). We have been known to accuse one another of being adult children. With school out, my daughter'll be up next week for adventuring, and, hopefully, for more than a day or two.
ReplyDeleteWhistler did great until thirteen. He still thinks he's got the ability at fifteen. Of course, now he can no longer climb, I have to lift him in and out of vehicles, and more than a mile, I'd have to carry him. The look in his eye, to antropomorphise, says he's not happy with this circumstance.
Yesterday the heat was too much for my boy, Ozzy. I had to carry him home on the return mile from the mailbox. I hate this.
ReplyDeleteOn a happier note: have a great picnic... ;D
On the other extreme, the cold really affects Chevy's arthritis. It's horrible to watch, and he growls at the prospect of help. Partially out of pain, but I also suspect a bit of pride...that one could climb a six foot fence to get to a bitch in heat when he was younger.
DeleteThank you. Possible rain/snow showers be damned! There is no bad weather, just the wrong clothing.
Sad when we see our pets age. Sounds like Whistler is in need of a little more relaxation these days. Our pets really do become family to us, don't they?
ReplyDeleteHe does sleep more, certainly. I could say he's not only family, but a fetter; he's one of the last links to my mother.
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