A walk? in the park

 What with the pandemic and Nobu getting on we've been going on far shorter walkies, so we all jumped in the car and headed off to our largest local park (a couple of years ago now it would have been a regular morning walkies, but lately Nobu is rarely in the mood to walk that far). Imagine my surprise when he walked a couple of hundred yards and plopped down on the grass to enjoy the woody scents and the mild autumn air, leaving me to coax and wheedle him on to no avail. No wonder I can't lose those extra pandemic kilos...but he's loving being the only pampered pooch in the household, now that Claire, Luna and Sherlock have crossed the rainbow bridge, so it's all good. 

Spa Day

 

Portrait of a Senior Setter

 

Nobu has been with almost a full ten years now, and enjoys a leisurely sniffari for his morning walkies. When he first came, the shelter vet guessed his age at 3-4 years old, and he was boisterous and playful, fun-loving and powerful. After ten years with us, there's no denying he's getting on as far as big dogs go, but he loves the slow pace of us oldies as we go about our day, and we all get along famously.

End of Summer

 

This is Nobu chilling drowsily on the cool parquet in the air-conditioned sitting room, now our only furbaby since Sherlock passed...He's getting on at almost ten full years with us, and has lumps and bumps, but otherwise healthy and enjoys the peace and quiet of the home and getting to choose where to go on walkies to match his energy levels. Sometimes he'll just come out and chill on the road while i sweep the leaves...

I haven't really been able to blog as Sherlock passed, so sad...but with Sherlock I could really feel his satisfaction in life, the healing of all pain, the warm love...he couldn't be cremated immediately as the crematorium only takes one big dog a day, so we had to wait for three days. That was perfect, his little body was packed on ice which I changed regularly, and he had a huge amount of flowers, I had to borrow the neighbor's vase we had so many. And he loved it, and you could feel it. Of all my furbabies, I could feel the release and joy and gratitude most...no regrets, no wishes, no what ifs, just complete happiness in the way things were. A lovely wee soul. 

The knit is the Dive In MKAL cowl by Susan Ashcroft, a lovely pattern the designer generously gifted me so I could join in. It does look great on Nobu, but i think it will be worn by humans after all...

Camping at the foot of the bridge

Sherlock has stopped eating these past four or five days...and is slowly getting smaller and smaller in preparation for the final journey. Like a baby, there's a lot of messy stuff going on, with oozing puss and fluids, bursting final poopies, and aching bones as we lift him out to the garden for his peewees, which he likes to go about five or so times a day, even if there are only drops...i pop him down on the newly sprouting grass, and prop his feet into a standing position, and he wobbles a bit to get his balance, takes a few steps, and then comes to a stop, and after a peewees, stands there wondering if i can catch him before he collapses...Like a mummy, I grow into the new tasks of feeding water with a dropper, or a teacup when he can lift his head a little, of patting round oozing sores with wet wipes and creams, gently murmuring words of encouragement and soothing nothings to show him we love him.

It's weird how time seems to collapse, already dreamlike with the pandemic, it disappears into a dull sense of waiting, and a peaceful satisfaction of having the daily noises going on around, the chirping of the birds, Nobu thumping and whumping, leaping on to the sofa with much gusto, and the clatter of the dishes in the kitchen...not going just yet, mummy, let me get on with being here. And he is so cute, in all the messiness of encroaching death, he's so adorable and sweet, the soul shines through the not so ephemeral body, and he is beautiful. And tough, and used to pain and patience, and toughing it out: I wish it would all go fast, but like birth, it takes its time, slowly, but surely. So we're still camping on the edge of the bridge.