The Gorgeous Miss Scarlett

She is slowing.  Every movement is contemplated well ahead of its execution.  There are perhaps only a small number of steps remaining, so each one is measured and weighed for its importance.  The body rises from the floor only when the food bowl is fully prepared and heading to Scarlett’s feeding place.  We walk together, she and I, carefully.  Slowly.

There is still a wag in her tail.  But now she stands for only three events:  A small bowl of food laced with pain pills and vitamins, a short sunbath outside, or the occasional visitor to greet.  Her hips are too painful with arthritis to accommodate any more activity than that.  Walks are out of the question.  A game of fetch occupies perhaps only a memory to be dreamed of.  Playtime with Wilson is mostly out of the question, although she still loves a rousing game of bone wars now and then.

Yes.  Scarlett is slowing more each day.  We don’t know when she will ask for that final ride to the vet, or if she even will.  The vet’s office has always been a source of concern for Scarlett.  But as long as she can still manage to walk to her spot on the grass, Scarlett will continue to be showered with the same love and care that she has always given us.

I call these the gentle days.

I hold Scarlett’s dear face in my hands and we talk.  We murmur softly to each other.  We smile.  I’ve promised her that I’ll hold her all the way when the time comes.  I tell her it’s okay to leave us if she needs to and it’s equally okay to stay if she wants.

In spite of — or perhaps more accurately, because of — the spreading gray on her muzzle, her halting gait, her deliberate far-away gaze, the gorgeous Miss Scarlett has never seemed more beautiful.


0 thoughts on “The Gorgeous Miss Scarlett

  1. Oh Miss Scarlett –

    You are in our thoughts. And you deserve as many biscuits as you like.

    Oh Miss Auburn –

    You too. And don’t forget the gravy part.

    Love you dear and understand –

    Shelly

  2. Thank you, Eliza. I’m feeling those hugs.

    Shelly — Biscuits without gravy? Never. Thanks for your good thoughts.

    And Dave — I know dogs are in heaven. Otherwise, what’s the point?

    Thank you everyone for your kindness. The vet has put Scarlett on pain pills now and she’s feeling slightly better, although she still doesn’t walk more than a few steps without taking a long rest. Still, in the meantime, she’s a trooper and continues to smile at the mere thought of a cookie or a good petting.

  3. Oh it pains me to think of that future for my own canine babies, but Miss Scarlet takes it with such grace. She has been a wise second mother to Wilson, and for that alone, we are grateful, much less her countless contributions to your happy home.
    I am certain that God would not create dogs, only to separate us eternally by death. My only question for him is, why do Parrots get to live 60 years and not dogs? I would really like the answer to that one. No offense to parrot people.

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