25/67 Old Dogs

One of my favourite spots for a walk in beautiful nature is the stretch of Constantia Green Belt close to the Alphen Hotel. The Disa River flows all along next to the pathways, which wind behind and between the back of suburbia. Whoever has been working on maintaining the area is doing a great job- lots of the invasive bamboo and lantana have gone, and while there is lots that's not indigenous, the waterway is clear and not choked up anymore. At this time of year, the jasmine is flowering and the deciduous trees are leafless, banks of trees are pale and bare stemmed against the pines. (Someone please scatter my ashes in a forest of naked pale tree trunks when the time comes.)

I was walking with my two favourite girls, Gemma (13)  and Chloe (5). And as I walked, I realized to my sadness that my old girl was struggling to keep up, and that at the age of 13 x 7 she is actually 91. In dog years. She doesn't stop, shambling along, but on the return leg, looks as if every step is uncomfortable. She did make a few trips to the river, where it was easily accessible, and dipped in true labrador style. I know she is very deaf, sometimes gets anxious, forgets she's eating while she's eating and takes a little walk away from her bowl, so all the signs of odd behavious and great age are there. But she is and has always been my dog, who looks at me and just gets my mood,  so it is hard to think of her as less than she has always been. 

Now, after her supper and our supper, as I am writing, she has come to lie at my feet, and seems to be herself again. Well enough to give us the beady greedy eye and beg for table scraps.