Thursday, October 13, 2011
In a dogs compressed life you see the changes . Falling asleep in unexpected places . Staggering when lifting a leg. Turning left when he's always turned right. Yesterday, irritating growths under his left eyelid. An ever attentive young vet sees him straight away. Twice a day insulin injections. Nose, and now eye drops, morning and evening . No complaints. Just a gentle , unhurried , drifting .
The question has started to crop up more frequently. Time to say goodbye ? Not if you saw him devouring lunch , scuttling through the grass or gently taking a biscuit from one of the young builders. He's a fighter. A comic through and through . Sheepdogs must have a dominant gene that keeps them guarding their flock. That and a passion for sausages, coconut ice cream and illicit Jaffa Cakes.
On our evening walk we meet the really , really old farmer. 89. He asks after Wilf. '' Is he eating well ? ". ' Three times a day and more if he could ' I reply . He nods , thinks for a moment, laughs then says : " Love is patient " .
Funny . You spend your life hearing words, reading words, speaking words, writing words. Then you come across a farmer who sums up what it means to have an old dog in just three of them .