Our lovely Miss Scarlett is beginning to slow down. She’s graying around the muzzle and eyes. She walks through the house now, unlike Wilson who dances about singing, I’m too sexy for my fur, too sexy for my paws, too sexy for my tail, too sax-seeeee.
Miss Scarlett is a lady; she’s dainty. She takes a while longer to stand now, to take that first halting step, to eat her meals, to come when her name is called. She’s still up for a rousing game of bone wars, but these days, she’d rather lounge than lunge.
She’s become someone who Boy Scouts would escort across the street.
We take precautions with her; we have every lump and bump immediately and carefully examined by the vet, we no longer ask her to sit for cookies, her walks are shorter and slower. We want her with us for a very long time. We won’t care if she drools from the side of her mouth or needs Depends® to get through the day.
Scarlett is that special — that irreplaceable.
She’s a woman of grace and beauty who simply wears fur to every occasion.
Then there’s Wilson!