Good Ol' Buck
Spring 1995 - Spring 2009
He was practically deaf. His eyes got cloudier. No matter what I encouraged him to eat, he couldn't keep any meat on his bones. More and more his back legs would wobble. He loved his walks but he couldn't make it to the end of the block anymore. He loved to ride in the car but he couldn't climb up onto the seat without help. Even though I would have gladly looked the other way so he could have slept on the low couch in the living room, he wanted to sleep on the hardwood floor right by my side. He loved his kitties, he loved us all. He wasn't perfect but I've never met a dog who was more gentle and more anxious to please.
I figured if we could just get him through this cold, cold winter, we could enjoy one more summer. We could lounge in the grass in the shade of the front maple. I could pretend I don't notice when he nibbled his favorite herbs in the garden.
And then, on the first day of spring, he just curled up for a nap and never woke up.
His absence is a big echoing space.
He was a good old dog.