Tuesday, January 24, 2012

he didn't get up

I thought that he might die last night. His eyes were resigned and his body posture, laying spread out across the kitchen floor. didn't lend itself to life.

I didn't hear him barking for me while I was unlocking the door and most notably, while I was letting Skye out of her crate, he stayed on the floor - didn't even lift his head. I knelt down next to him, rubbed his head for several minutes and talked to him even though he's deaf and can't hear me.

Finally, I coaxed him to get up and go inside to go potty, but he was limping badly and in a lot of pain.

He over did it this weekend, I know. He can't just sit back at the house when he knows that I'm with the horses or walking out to the barn. He has to go with me and he has to keep up. As a result, he did a lot of running and his 15-year-old self isn't as young as it used to be.

I sat with him on the kitchen floor for awhile, just petting him and thinking. Thinking about how he's my last tangible connection to a past few people know about and thinking about how much life has changed between now and then.

Good talk.

Then I gave him some pain medicine, kissed him, told him I love him, and went to bed.

This morning he's back to himself. Being bossy to Skye, trying to run around as fast as he can and promptly getting up when he sees me.

Zeb is good. Life is good.

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