Tuesday, December 07, 2010
Thanks to my youngest child for taking this cute picture of Molly's sniffer, as he calls it.
Our penny-colored Golden Retriever
turned 10 years old on December 2nd.
She didn't hold it against me that I
forgot. We all forgot.
When I look at her these days, I often
get choked up. In fact, when I watch her sleeping, I check to make sure her
chest is rising and falling. If I can't tell, I put my hand to her sniffer to check for breath. If she still gives me a scare by not moving, I call her name, and she wags her tail and pops her head up.
Sadness wells up in my heart to think of the day she doesn't lift her pretty head and look at me with those big chocolate drop eyes. That face of hers now has a pale grey mask--the certified mark of an aging mutt. But she is still spry and limber once she gets up from a nap. She loves to chase squirrels off the deck. Rarely does she require much energy of us, except for food and water and to be let out and back in. Once in a while, though, her inner puppy comes out to play; when it does, we can tell by the sock dangling from her mouth.
I love my dog. I wish she could live forever.