A dog and her bone by Patricia A. Smith My sister has an old black lab mix named Lily. She’s 12 years old. She moves like a regal older lady. Her hips are starting to give out and her hearing is worse than my father’s. His has been questionable for nearly a decade if that gives you any indication. Last week I prepared a leg of lamb for dinner. Lily’s sense of smell remains impeccable. As she sat by the oven drooling and waiting for it to magically appear, I noticed how much more patient she was than in prior years. Little did she know that the payout for her patience would be the big bone and she would receive it a day later. What was interesting was that instead of taking to that bone and whittling it down to a toothpick in a matter of minutes as she might have done when she was younger, she paraded around the yard with it and then tried to bring it back in the house. She tried every door to no avail. She wanted to bring that bone home. When she finally came to the conclusion that she would have to deal with it outside, she went deep into the woods and buried it. The next morning, she went and dug it up and spent half the day deliberately gnawing on it while taking breaks throughout the day to soothe her (almost) bleeding gums. If we asked her to drop it, she was compliant. When we urged her into the house using sign language, she obliged, sans bone. That bone was wiped clean but was left mostly intact. She respected and appreciated it. I realized that in human years, Lily is 84. So is my father. At least until Friday. Both have slowed down, mellowed out and changed with age. Seeing how each deals with the bones of life today compared to 10 years ago, there’s a lesson in there that I finally learned. Getting the bone and decimating it immediately is not nearly as important as savoring it for as long as possible. If you’ve got one to pick, make sure the reward is worth the effort of hunting it down. With time you will learn that some are far better to save and others are easier to let go. Maybe the three of us have finally understood that once something’s finally gone, you’ll never get it back. Happy birthday, Dad.
Posted on: Tue, 01 Jul 2014 18:37:44 +0000
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