There is a contract of sorts, that we make with the dogs when we bring them into our lives. They are cute and funny and young and healthy...and in a few short years they are elderly and silly and still funny perhaps, but with growing health problems and limited mobility. This is the contract that we agree to. My thoughts around this lately are growing sad. Coal is now twelve. My handsome open dog who ran joyously up the hills at Zamora, and at Dunnigan, and all the other trials, bringing me trial sheep, doing chores like a comfortable and reliable well-worn saddle, is growing old. And now he has some health issues. He is developing kidney trouble. The vet has put him on a special diet of low phosphorous food to help delay the problems. But he has to go potty a lot, drinks a lot of water and according to the vet needs to be allowed to drink all he wants. We have worked out a plan for now, so that everyone is comfortable. The thought of all this makes me super sad. He is very quickly losing his hearing, too, so we have to manage his freedom when there are no fences to protect him. He's super anxious without me and is glued to my side; I wonder if the hearing loss makes him more needy to be right with me.
Coal is still silly and within seconds of waking up in the morning, is searching for the nearest ball or toy to toss around, or a nylabone to chew on ferociously while I stumble out of bed. He seems to still be enjoying life and that is what I will try to maintain.
Ryme is right behind him at nine years old, and will be ten in December. I had dogs two years apart, years ago, in Alix and Augie and I should have known better than to do that again because I will soon have two elderly dogs to care for, once again. But this contract is not always foremost in our minds when we bring that puppy home. Ryme is still working and doing chores and I hope that continues for a good while. I don't know what I will do without him. Spot and Cap will have to step into his jobs.
