Dropped Wyatt off at the vet this morning for an exploratory procedure. I am now trying to do anything, accomplish something, will myself to the positive. I’m over-caffeinated and staged nearby awaiting the vet’s call.
I can talk about the details, the minutia of his afflictions. I’ve gnashed over the could be and mights, in some ways thankful for an internet full of information and in other ways hating the maladies now seeded in my head. Let me give you the broad diagnosis; my bird dog and best buddy is getting old.
Wyatt’s hunting antics are what most people get to see. But his health has been gradually declining. His time afield has been fairly limited the last couple of seasons due to compounding ailments. I’ve had to carry him from the field a few times, he hates that. Around the house he still is the affable Lab but with more naps and less agility.
He still has the spark in his eye that shows he’s plotting the next snack, the next escape and the next bird — likely in that order. When I lifted him from the vehicle this morning I could feel his heart beating strong in his chest. I let my hand linger just a brief, extra moment not wanting him to think something might be wrong.
He likes the vet office. It’s a place of unlimited treat potential and new friends to fawn over him.
I have been here before with other dogs. I always think I’ll discover some additional wisdom, something that makes this easier. But, I also recognize I don’t want this to be easy at all. Ever.
I do need to find a way to look at my aging friend and not worry about what is coming or mourn what has been. I guess that’s what the enlightened call being present.
I’m afraid to look forward, and hesitant to look back.
Right now I just need the phone to ring with some answers. I’ll save enlightenment for another time when my buddy returns to resting easy on his couch.