There has been absolutely no progress with my book over the past three weeks. Its status dial has stuck on “22” stories and is unlikely to move for a while. I have attempted to read what I have written, but the pages leave an insipid taste in my mouth. The completed portion of my manuscript lies forlornly on my coffee table – a stark reminder that I am in a hole of despair. How can one possibly find the resolve to write creatively when one’s world is falling apart?
Max, my dog and constant, faithful companion of ten years is dying.
There is nothing more I can do for him. After numerous, Xrays and Vets visits he’s been given the news that nobody ever wants to hear…”I’m sorry, there is nothing more we can do for him!”
I have suffered through the grief of losing close family members, but nothing has prepared me for the shock of losing my Max. You see, he is not just a dog! He’s a magnificent Golden retriever who has more than earned his place in this world. Rising above all my expectations, he has been my constant shadow and watched my every move. Indeed, he’s is probably the reason why I am still alive.
As time passes, I am coming to realize that he is so intimately etched into my identity that I am effectively losing half of myself. It’s only when someone is extricated from your life that you appreciate the full value of that person. It is no different with a dog.
Max has been a remarkable living creature – a working dog – my crutch over the past 10 years. He’s been my personal body guard and coach, seeing me through numerous projects and comforting me through debilitating depression. Throughout this time, he has never left my side, constantly encouraging me to get along with my life. In essence he has been a true service dog.
Now, while he deteriorates, I can only look on and assume the responsibility of watching and waiting for the moment when it will be right to give him the ultimate gift of canine love – a quiet, peaceful and pain free death. At that moment his life’s mission will be complete and I will have to move on.
For now, my book will have to wait. For now, I am spending time with my Max.
Max, my dog and constant, faithful companion of ten years is dying.
There is nothing more I can do for him. After numerous, Xrays and Vets visits he’s been given the news that nobody ever wants to hear…”I’m sorry, there is nothing more we can do for him!”
I have suffered through the grief of losing close family members, but nothing has prepared me for the shock of losing my Max. You see, he is not just a dog! He’s a magnificent Golden retriever who has more than earned his place in this world. Rising above all my expectations, he has been my constant shadow and watched my every move. Indeed, he’s is probably the reason why I am still alive.
As time passes, I am coming to realize that he is so intimately etched into my identity that I am effectively losing half of myself. It’s only when someone is extricated from your life that you appreciate the full value of that person. It is no different with a dog.
Max has been a remarkable living creature – a working dog – my crutch over the past 10 years. He’s been my personal body guard and coach, seeing me through numerous projects and comforting me through debilitating depression. Throughout this time, he has never left my side, constantly encouraging me to get along with my life. In essence he has been a true service dog.
Now, while he deteriorates, I can only look on and assume the responsibility of watching and waiting for the moment when it will be right to give him the ultimate gift of canine love – a quiet, peaceful and pain free death. At that moment his life’s mission will be complete and I will have to move on.
For now, my book will have to wait. For now, I am spending time with my Max.
