This is our dog, Aika.
He turned 9 this year and he’s been showing his decrepitness lately. I’m having a difficult time coping with his aging and the idea of caring for an ailing dog. Here he is when we first adopted him:
I was never a dog lover but Aika transformed me into a dog freak. Michael and I spent many years with only the hope of being parents and Aika was our child. We even threw him a birthday party once. My sister still ridicules me about that but she came to the party and enjoyed the cake. He has a stocking at Christmas and dresses up for Halloween. He is our first baby.
Admittedly, once Eva arrived, Aika was no longer top dog. He couldn’t do this anymore:
Or this:
I don’t suffocate him with the same amount of affection anymore but I still love the old guy. He makes me happy and I’m melancholy that our time with him is rapidly shortening.
Aika has had to go to the vet every month for the past little while. Not only is this expensive for us but it’s an obvious sign that he’s not our spry puppy anymore.
Our kitchen counter is scattered with prescriptions and my phone dings reminders throughout the day to medicate our boy. Every morning when I check his bed to let him outside, I hold my breath a moment in case he’s dead. He can’t jump up into the car anymore and he has trouble standing first thing in the morning. He behaves as though he’s approximately 157 in dog years.
Aika is the best dog I’ve ever known. He doesn’t bark, he’s docile, and he loves everyone; even our toddler who has never been gentle with him. He is pure and wonderful. Despite my mutterings about his annoying shedding and the piles of poo landmines in our yard, I love this dog a ridiculous amount. A really ridiculous amount.
I don’t know how much longer Aika will be with us, but I will continue to dress him up for Halloween. I will also continue to hang a stocking for him even after he departs. He likes it.
He’d better be waiting for me in Heaven when I get there.
(Yes, I’m going to Heaven, you jerk.)
No comments:
Post a Comment