Last Walks

It is a beautiful day in Opelika.  The sky is blue, the sun at an autumn angle, and the dogwoods are beginning to change ever so slightly.  I am not completely up to speed today, but I found the speed to take my dogs for a walk.  First Jessie, then Abby, and, finally, Wolf.  

Jessie ran around like a nervous nelly marking everything he saw.  Abby, the least disciplined of all the dogs, walked politely next to me and stopped before crossing streets.  Wolf, the failing Alpha Dog who is probably 17 years old, made it only around the block on which the house sits, his black coat looking so rusty in the sun, his sweet little tail wagging, panting and easing along.  As we walked side by side I thought "remember this, remember this, don't ever forget how this feels."

I believe that loss teaches you to treasure the smallest of moments.  You never know with a dog Wolf's age if it's your last walk together, so such an ordinary event becomes...yes...a sacred moment. 

Unexpected loss is harder to bear.  One cannot help but struggle to remember the last walk.