She’s in her 90’s. She can’t hear. Her sight is dimming. She’s becoming more and more afraid and anxious about her surroundings. Because of what appears to be the onset of dementia, she has gotten lost while out and about. Her apartment, while comfortable, is more and more insufficient for her daily needs. She lost her twin sister and roommate almost a year ago and she’s been pretty lonely ever since. It appears that the time has come to make that hard decision about moving her to a place where she will get better care.
No, I’m not talking about a mother or an aunt; I’m talking about a Golden Retriever. I’ve mentioned her a few times in previous posts, most recently from December 1, 2014 (“Fear Not … Seriously!”). She makes me crazy, but I’m going to miss her when she’s gone. I’ve been dreading the day when her health might necessitate the difficult quality of life decision. It was hard on me when that call had to be made with her sister. (“Saying Goodbye to a Fetching Friend” – March 3, 2014).
But a new conversation came up a few weeks before Christmas that resulted in the longest car ride of her life this past weekend. We took her to Amarillo to live with the little girl who, almost 13 years ago, saved up her money for her dream puppy, researched all the best ways to “test” a puppy, and fell in love with a beautiful little golden bundle of fur when she visited the breeder. Favorite daughter named that little puppy Kiley Ann Lewis and trained her, loved her, groomed her, and made her very much the center of attention until the girl went off to college and the dog stayed home.
Now the little girl is a grown up married woman and mother of my perfect granddaughter. They have a house with a big yard and have decided that they would like to be Kiley’s assisted living facility, where she can live out her days being pampered and getting a whole lot more attention than old Dr. Grandpa can give her. She’ll get to sleep inside the house and be stroked and groomed and petted by the first hands that ever showed her that kind of love. She’ll also get to frequently be touched by little hands that Dr. Grandpa wishes he could hold more often than he does.
I’m not sure what spiritual lesson there is in all this except that I want everyone to know that God is right in the middle of our lives. Every blessed moment comes from Him. Every joy. Every blessing. Every expression of love and loyalty. Every treasured memory. Our lives matter so much to Him that … there is nothing about our lives that does NOT matter to Him.
I’ve had both misty eyes and a big smile while writing this today. I hope you’ve had the same in reading.
