This pic of the pooch was taken on an unusually warm day in March 2010—perhaps the last really good day she had before her health started its swift decline. This morning, we’re taking her to an internist for an ultrasound and for what we expect to be a definitive diagnosis.Last night the pooch rallied to take a short walk before bedtime. Lightning lit the sky around us, but the pooch paid no attention.
We watched an opossum lumber across a vacant lot to a fence opening, where it surprisingly came nose to nose with another opossum coming from the opposite direction. After delivering a minor snarl, the latter opossum slipped through the fence opening and the two new chums disappeared into the shadows together. The pooch noted the action, but showed no interest.
Lightning used to terrify the pooch. Many’s the stormy night when she’d wake us for solace and expect us to turn on all the lights so she couldn’t detect the lightning through the blinds. And, of course, the pooch used to delight in catching a glimpse of wildlife on her walks.
What Horror is holding our pooch hostage?
Whatever it is, it hasn’t won the match yet. The pooch still asks for food, though she doesn’t eat it. She still tries to follow me around—the ever-vigilant herder. She continues to accept our pets and massages and companionship.
This afternoon, the Horror will have a name—and we’ll choose how best to wrest our beloved canine away from its grip.
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