The Dog

The holidays are over. So, too, is the five-day break I had from the routine of caring for our aging dog. Now I am back to springing out of bed at any hour of the night to take her out for a walk when I hear the jingle of the license and name tag dangling from her collar. Staying with my mother, as we are now, there is no yard to let the dog out, so every time she needs to relieve herself, I take her out and pace along with her at the side of the road. Her decline has been gradual, but when it came time to arrange for her care while we left town, it was obvious she would need more attention than I could comfortably ask anyone to give. I had resigned myself to staying home to care for her while the rest of the family went to visit relatives over the holidays, but at the last minute my step-mother insisted we bring the dog to stay with her and my dad. They hadn’t had a dog in the house for some years and I am afraid that after those five days, it may be some years more before they do again.

ambling along
with her nose in the grass
blue moon