Elvis is sleeping more these days. Deeper, too. Used to be when I came home from work, he'd come racing to the door to greet me, doing a little happy dance that translated as, "She came back, she came back!!!"
Now, he often doesn't even know I'm home. Not until I lean over his snoring figure, stretched across his La-Z-Dog recliner, and stroke his velvety neck. "Hi baby," I greet him. "Let's go bye-bye!" After all, he's been indoors for almost ten hours. With access to the yard, of course, but still, there's nothing like a walk to the park, right? Fresh air, exciting new smells, and hanging with his peeps, like Gus the pit bull, Mandy the chihuahua, Apollo the golden retriever and Sadie the lab. Yep, our park is quite the canine social scene.
Most days Elvis is ready and willing, but lately I'm getting a new look. One that says, "You go on ahead, we'll catch up later." And back to sleep he goes.
I'm not surprised. After all, my boy is 12. Since most large dogs have a life expectancy of 12-14 years, I'm all too aware that every day I have with Elvis is just a little more precious than the last. He's healthy, thank God. Much slower, but hey, aren't we all?
This is why I'm relishing our time together and trying to not think about how long that may be. I'm lavishing him with more attention than usual, such as our new evening ritual: every night, I lie alongside Elvis on his La-Z-Dog recliner. I hold him in my arms, stroke his silky face and pepper his needle nose with kisses.
And he closes his eyes and leans against me, tucking his knobby little head under my chin. His gentle face literally vibrates from his chattering teeth (this is an endearing trait unique to the breed called "greyhound chatter" in which their teeth chatter when they're happy or excited). He just eats this up. As do I.
I look at my beautiful boy and hold him tight, tighter. As do I.
Now, he often doesn't even know I'm home. Not until I lean over his snoring figure, stretched across his La-Z-Dog recliner, and stroke his velvety neck. "Hi baby," I greet him. "Let's go bye-bye!" After all, he's been indoors for almost ten hours. With access to the yard, of course, but still, there's nothing like a walk to the park, right? Fresh air, exciting new smells, and hanging with his peeps, like Gus the pit bull, Mandy the chihuahua, Apollo the golden retriever and Sadie the lab. Yep, our park is quite the canine social scene.
Most days Elvis is ready and willing, but lately I'm getting a new look. One that says, "You go on ahead, we'll catch up later." And back to sleep he goes.
I'm not surprised. After all, my boy is 12. Since most large dogs have a life expectancy of 12-14 years, I'm all too aware that every day I have with Elvis is just a little more precious than the last. He's healthy, thank God. Much slower, but hey, aren't we all?
This is why I'm relishing our time together and trying to not think about how long that may be. I'm lavishing him with more attention than usual, such as our new evening ritual: every night, I lie alongside Elvis on his La-Z-Dog recliner. I hold him in my arms, stroke his silky face and pepper his needle nose with kisses.
And he closes his eyes and leans against me, tucking his knobby little head under my chin. His gentle face literally vibrates from his chattering teeth (this is an endearing trait unique to the breed called "greyhound chatter" in which their teeth chatter when they're happy or excited). He just eats this up. As do I.
I look at my beautiful boy and hold him tight, tighter. As do I.
1 comment:
Love your blog. I was wondering if you have considered that Elvis might me missing Lucy and be a little depressed. Perhaps bringing in a foster for a little while to see if he perks up might help. Both my greys were just short of 15 yrs when the left me.
Post a Comment