Slow Like Honey

Today rolls by slow as raw honey poured from a jar in winter. Nicholai, Kelley, and I are all taking the day off. Of course, I walked with Nicholai around the neighborhood this morning and it seemed more than enough for the old boy. Later, Kelley and I went to the lot next door for a short but vigorous game of fetch. In less than twenty minutes, her tongue was hanging and her sides were heaving. The rest of the day's been spent in quiet leisure – Kelley napping with her head on my lap while I watch movies and Nicholai roving from spot to spot, searching for comfort.

There have been a couple of scares since first he was diagnosed with lymphoma in January of '09. In August, he took sick with vomiting and diarrhea. At the time, we thought it was the end, but in a couple days he was back to his energetic, scarfing meals, happy self. In December, he and Kelley ate rotten salmon on the beach and contracted a potentially lethal bacterial infection. Once again, he pulled through in time to gobble down an entire Christmas pumpkin pie all by himself.

The first seven months of 2010 have been filled with the simple elegance of early morning walks, the blessing of mountain hikes, and the fine company of my constant companion and pack-brother. The knowledge of his finite time with me has allowed me to carve out more quality time with him and give him more mindful notice when other demands of life pull me away.

Because of the attention I have paid him, I am now able to see his cues. He's slower on walks, dilly-dallying along, often behind me. Alarmingly, he ate only half his breakfast this morning. His breath comes hard and ragged at times. The tumors in his groin (inguinal lymph nodes) are now huge; I struggle to maintain equanimity. I rather hate those tumors and wish I could make them disappear. Alas, they are not operable and our current cures can stave them off at best. Nicholai has had a fabulous run at eighteen months since diagnosis. I should not hope for more. But I do.

I'll discuss options further with his vet in the next day or two. Due to the generosity of the friend who will drive us, we'll head out to the river again tomorrow. I'll feed Nicholai pumpkin pie if I need to, then I'll work on letting go.

I think this is the beginning of the end.