To Penny

On Saturday, when The Penster and I returned from an overnight trip, I was a bit worried about her, since she hadn't eaten hardly anything at all in almost two days. I managed to pique her appetite and Penny ate her evening meal and her favorite dog biscuit.

That night, she had quite a bowel problem. Poor dear! I cleaned up the mess and worried about her some more. Then, while I slept, she threw up everything she had eaten earlier and on Sunday she wasn't even able to keep down water. Ever since, Penny has refused all food and only drinks when I offer water to her by hand. The vet gave her medicine to calm her innards, which seems to have worked, but I think she has decided it's time to let go.

My dear friend still gets up and totters to her usual resting places, depending on what room I'm in, and responds to noises and touch. We've also managed a few short forays up and down the street in front of the house. But I don't think she will be with me much longer.

We've had 15 marvelous years togethers. She's the dog of my ordination and has seen me through good years and rough ones. Her favorite pasttimes were stealing used kleenex, eating used socks and underwear, and walking together through the neighborhood. Penny never was much of a snuggly dog, unless there was a thunderstorm banging around. Then she wanted to sit on your lap and climb as high as possible!

But life has become difficult for her in the past six months or so. She no longer leaps up on furniture and her problems with the few spots of linoleum in the house have grown exponentially. Those old bones and joints just aren't working like they're supposed to. For the past month or two, eating hasn't been on her high priority list either. Her hearing and eyesight are about what one might expect of a grande dame of 105 dog years.

And so ... I've been letting her go over the last few days. Petting her, doing whatever she feels up to, crying copious tears, telling her I love her and it's all right to let go and be at rest in a place where she is once more whole and vigorous and young.

Life won't be the same without her. It never is. But I'll remember the good times: the stolen lunch meat, sitting side by side on the recliner, playing "foot", the time she actually caught the squirrel, and hours spent in friendly companionship.

To Penny Penelope Penny-lope
Black and white puppy
Faithful, quirky, brown-eyed friend
Furry little thief!