"The time has come," the Walrus said,
"To talk of many things:
Of shoes--and ships--and sealing-wax--
Of cabbages--and kings--
And why the sea is boiling hot--
And whether pigs have wings."

The time has come… The little voice whispers “no more” as simple things become increasingly difficult for my furry friend.

Time in love and kindness before the every day life becomes unmanagable for him. Time before the memories are tainted by the relentless march of the demon within.

No more camping trips, sunset walks by the lake, wading in the stream or gingerly picking his way through snow left by the odd winter storm.

No more little brown dog snarfing the kitchen floor for snacks or sitting, chin on my knee, silently anticipating any stray crumb that might “fall” from my plate.

No backward glance out the front door each morning waiting for Handyman to follow so that business can be done.

No more warm fuzzy body curled by my bed when I get up in the dark or squirming his way onto my lap in a needy moment.

Surgery bought time…time to think, digest and accept…time to remember… time to make new memories to be held in the days ahead

. 

The beast has won.

Friday will be Charlie’s final trip to his vet-doc.

I will hold him as he passes from this world into whatever comes next. I will cry at the loss of him in my life.  And I will be grateful for the steadfast companionship of that rambunctious little brown creature that has been my friend, travel buddy, silent therapist and crying towel since Jim bought him for me for Valentine’s Day 14 years ago.

I will remember him with love.