TheBanyanTree: We’re All Aging

[NancyIee at aol.com]

I took the signs of aging in my pets as some sort of warning about my own  
"coming of age".
 
I knew my Papillon was getting old when he stopped peeing in the  house.  
Ah, stones again. I had the surgery done on him when he was eight.  Tiny 
stones to plug the peeing of a tiny dog. The vet said they would eventually  
return, and they did, when he was thirteen.  It was so hard on him the  first 
time, the surgery, and he told me "no more". I listened, and did nothing  
more than have the vet flush him out now and then.   Snickers was my  pal, my 
protector, my conscience. He was my show dog in early years, my  Champion. In 
later years, he seemed he was my "grandpa", slower, going deaf,  slow to 
pee, going to soft food rather than the crunchy kind. But, he was part  of my 
life. And, I listened to him when he had had enough, and held him as he  
went to sleep for the last time.
 
He, like other loved pets, are under the biggest pine in my yard, with a  
rose to mark his life. He has a purple one. Michael has the red, and more  
recently, Misti has a yellow, just starting to bloom.  They all got old,  and 
as they did, I saw my own future:  going deaf, going to soft food.  Going 
hard to pee.