Home to Leo

I spent a lot of time out of the house today… which means Leo spent a lot of time in the house, alone.  I always feel guilty about that, even though I know he probably sleeps most of the time I am gone.  He was still glad to see me as always, both times I came home.  He was also promptly ready, as always, when I suggested a walk.
Leo is my eight-and-a-half year old Golden Retriever.  Anyone who is a dog person him- or herself understands completely what treasures his adoration and companionship are to me.  He is very accommodating and adaptable: he has completely changed living situations several times during his short life and has never complained or given me problems.  He has been there for me through the very darkest months (or at least I hope that’s what they were) of my life.  I literally do not know what I might have done if it were not for his presence, his obvious joy at my return home, his needs to get me out of the house even when I had no motivation on my own behalf, his comforting presence through otherwise lonely evenings, his ability, plenty often enough, to make me laugh.

The two photos are over 6 years apart.  In the 1st he was 2 years old.  The 2nd was taken this evening.  I have watched his face whiten over the past 8 months or so with the occasional stab of sadness at the passage of time.  Mostly, though, he's still the same dog, for which I am very grateful. 

Leo has a congenital kidney disorder.  This means I obsess over his water intake.  It also means he gets far fewer food extras than most pets because he can't eat much other than his special diet.  Fortunately he considers romaine lettuce spines and broccoli stems gourmet treats, so he’s always right there at my feet the minute he hears the telltale plastic-bag noises that mean I’m making myself a salad. 

He has developed a limp, so we don’t walk as far together anymore.  I have been working on making what walking we do a more mindful practice, even when it involves picking up after him.  This spring has been a delightful time to do that: I watch the small changes in my neighbors’ yards and gardens and enjoy how nature recreates the environment again for the year, one day at a time.  I love the colors of the tulips and today, for the first time, caught strong whiffs of lilac as we passed by bushes in bloom.  That scent brings back childhood memories and much pleasure.  Then, as now, I lived in a city.  But somehow despite the noise and the busyness of it all, I can still sense the beauty of the earth and enjoy the warmth of the sun on my face, if I remember to notice.  It takes work to drain my mind of my to-do list, what happened yesterday, the worries, the hurry if I’ve an appointment soon.  But it’s worth it to just be, just enjoy the moment as I walk with my beloved dog, knowing these moments are finite and knowing I must treasure each one, live in each one.

There are no treatments for kidney disease in dogs.  Fortunately his diet has worked very well so far; he is compensating to the point of keeping his blood chemistry on the very edge of the normal range somehow.  With careful management and very good luck, he may live to at least the low end of the normal life span for retrievers.  But I am very aware of the finite nature of his remaining time in the best case and of the fact that there are no guarantees.  It makes me determined to treasure him, and these moments.