Achilles, Milo and I took Nick's old route on our walk last night. The trail has one very steep, hard hill right at the end, right before we cruise on home. That was the hill we climbed to build up Nick’s hind legs muscles (not to mention my own booty muscles!). Nick has such bad muscle atrophy when we first adopted him and he was such a good boy about his exercise. He’d improved tremendously before he was diagnosed with lymphoma.
The Dynamic Golden Duo investigated Nick's favorite place to pee, in the brush off to the side of the hill. They then peed on it themselves. I carry one of those honkin’, gigantic Mag flashlights with me on our night walks. I turned the flashlight off down one stretch of quiet residences. The three of us just strolled in the middle of the street, just the way Nick liked to do.
Nick also liked to cross diagonally at intersections. Ed didn’t like letting him do that, but I always let him get away with it. I liked to think Professor Nick was smart enough to understand geometry---that the shortest distance between two points is a straight line. (That just made me laugh! I am so funny, aren’t I?) So, last night the three of us also crossed the last intersection diagonally. Achilles and Milo looked very, very confused. (They obviously did not pass Geometry 101.)
It was a magical, peaceful walk. A hazy, light fog hung in the air. Moisture beads clung to Achilles and Milo’s fur, glittering like diamonds in what little light there was. The dark silence was filled with the sound of their panting and the jingle of their tags. Milo’s panting is shorter and faster, but he lets out a sigh every now and then. Achilles breathes long and deep. Their precious, warm breaths of life.
From the beginning, Milo has been very in tune with my emotions and knows right away when I'm upset or sad. He didn't fail in this last night. He didn’t stray from my side, not for one moment. He stopped several times our walk and just stared up at me with his jovial face. Even in the dark I could see the twinkle in his velvet eyes. Twice he licked my hand for no apparent reason. He knew his momma was melancholy. Normally he’s busy sniffing mysterious treasure or quickly gobbling up cat shit hoping to God I don’t catch him before he’s had his fill.
To cap off our memorial jaunt, they were treated to broccoli and carrots after dinner in memory of Nick. The two of them are so suspicious and funny with veggies, carefully sniffing and inspecting them before gobbling them up. Nick was probably looking down from heaven shaking his head saying, “Weirdos. What’s wrong with those two? Broccoli’s the best!”
Our Nick memorial walk was sweet, melancholy, sad, and celebratory---all at once. It was nice. I loved it. No, I needed it. I felt so much better after our walk. We were out for an hour, but I didn’t even notice.
Time flew by, just me and my two little Golden boys, with the spirit of the sweet Golden boy from above with us every step of the way.
4 comments:
It's been really hard to see you so sad this week. I'm sending you prayers of comfort.
Great post and you sound like you're feeling a bit better today? Do you ever feed them sweet potatoes?
Hugs to: you.
From: the brood.
Very, very sweet - and a good idea.
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