"That's ten and a half good years"

2 p.m.
Jose the vet tech seemed somber after he gave Winston his Adequan injection today. He only has one more injection left in this series of 8. The mailman came to the door and Winston dragged his butt across the floor to bark at him.

As Jose watched, and his usual optimism faded. “How long have you had Winston?”

“Ten and a half years.”

“That’s ten and a half good years,” he affirmed. “You have to realize that he’s getting older, and there’s only so much you can do for him.”

Yes. There’s really nothing more to say after that.

Another person who watched Winston skeptically today was our new housekeeper, who happened to be cleaning the house next door when I took him out in our backyard this morning. She came out and asked if Winston would ever get better.

“He’ll never run around fast again like he used to…”

I sensed her puzzling over the two of us. Finally she got it. “He’s a good companion,” she affirmed.

***

Later, 7 p.m.

Winston seemed a bit more unsteady on his legs today, but I thought he could make it around the circle again. He couldn’t.

He collapsed in the street when we were almost home, and this time he couldn’t get up. He was willing to try dragging his butt along the pavement, but that didn’t seem like a good idea to me.

I left him near the curb, hurried back to our house to grab his harness, and enlisted the help of our neighbor’s friend, who happened to be out working in their garage. He used the harness to bring dear Winston home.

“I’d like to give you something to thank you,” I said.

“I wouldn’t think of it.”

The friend left us alone. Winston had a hangdog, resigned expression. After comforting him for a while, I took a walk on my own. I just had to. When I came home, I could hear Winston howling, really HOWLING from a high-pitched squeal that stretched into a low, bass moan.

I lay beside him on the floor, wondering what I should do if Winston could no longer walk around the house. Had he already reached that point? I thought maybe so, but then the doorbell rang and he clambered to his feet, barking.

It was our neighbor Wendy with her new baby. Wendy smiled at Winston. “That answers my question! I came over to see if Winston was able to walk.”

“I don’t think I can walk him around the circle again.”

“He’ll let you know,” she said confidently. She had just been through this with her dog Ro, who died in October. “Some days she couldn’t do it, and other days she could.”