It’s been a long, but good day. Spent the morning shopping with Charlee, who is eight going on thirty. My first great grandchild and I went shopping together and spent a bit too much on clothes and a toy. Well worth it for me. So much so that I am taking Frankee, who is six and questions everything tomorrow; a trait that will serve her well. Now the day is done and I am in my recliner with a glass of wine and Tyson sleeping at my feet.

Tyson is a large black Lab mix and my shadow. Never more than a few feet away from me if I am at home and waits at the door when I go out until I return. He is fourteen years old and slowing down in too many ways. I have always known I will have to let him go eventually but eventually is getting closer every day and it feels, just sad. Tyson is actually my grandson’s dog, but like Curtis he has spent more time in my home than anywhere else for the last several years. When he came to the family as a puppy in 2012 my daughter, Curtis’ mother, was still alive and wanted to know what I thought of my grand dog. I thought he was adorable.

Time passed and things changed, as they do. A few years ago Curtis came to stay with grand dad and me and of course Tyson came too. I looked after him when Curtis was at work or out with friends. He gradually became more my dog and even though I didn’t really want that responsibility I could not help but love Tyson. He had digestive problems when he came and it took several vet visits and food changes to get him healthy. During that time he and I walked a lot at all hours of the day and night. He dropped poop in the ditch all the way around the block a few times a day until his system settled down after a couple of months. I can’t say I miss trudging out in the snow, rain and dark in the middle of the night, but he was always so obedient and affectionate that I really didn’t mind all that much.

Recently Tyson does not walk around the block anymore. He very slowly wanders to closest neighbors to say hello and get the treats they have been giving him for years then comes back home to get a drink and lay down to pant for a while until he settles down. He doesn’t climb stairs anymore and I have rubber backed rugs all over the house because he slips on the wood floors. His best pleasure is food. This he gets excited about, and his daily visits with Rusty, the cute wiener dog next door. Some time between six and seven every evening we go outside for the last poop of the day and when Tyson barks Rusty comes running and they sniff each other and sit together for a bit. Then we come inside and he begs for a treat until I have given him a milk bone and a biscuit or two. That routine taken care of he parks all one hundred pounds of him on or near my feet and sleeps. He snores.

Tomorrow, we go to the vet to get his nails trimmed and for a checkup. Tyson takes about five pills a day already and has a carefully planned diet. So, I think I am ready for whatever comes, at least as much as I can be. There are many kinds of love, and I have been fortunate to know some of them, but I know no person will or even can love me like this old, precious dog does. People say all dogs go to heaven, but this best of the good boys has given our family a bit heaven on earth. Maybe, with a bit of luck, we will have just a little bit more.