Tribute to the Sunny Girl

This morning I was astonished to realize that my precious Sunny- girl could no longer jump up on the bed to herald me to awakeness. Instead, she remained on the floor, peering up over the top of the bed, whining to be let out for her early morning pee, rather than jumping up and leveling my belly with her two front paws as she once did, every single Saturday and Sunday morning for years and years and years.

This new occurence tells me that I don't have too many more Mays with her, not too many springs and summers, falls and winters. She will turn 12 on July 29th, after all. That may not seem old to other dog owners but, for Sunny, I see the turning of the leaves, the orange fur turning white, the once golden snout becoming more grey, those once bright eyes becoming darker and more autumn-like as the days fly by.

I told a friend before my mother passed, that I believed my losses would go this way: my wonderful mother first, my beloved dog second, and my dear father last. I see now that, since my mother is gone (this past February), that it is now my dog, and my precious father remaining but that Sunny is no longer able or interested in defending my property against intruders. It is harder and harder for her to mount the back steps, she prefers sleeping at my feet above nearly all...she contends with Ella but she'd rather not and her protests about same amount to merely a whine sometimes.

Sunny has been my constant companion for nearly twelve years, the keeper of my secrets, the bearer of all that is me, the only being in my world who hasn't judged me for any of it. I find myself more often than not, lying down with her, spooning as it were, with my faithful friend. Even now, as Ella barks out the front window at some non-existent threat (a bird hopping about in the front yeard, maybe or just the wind blowing a branch past the front window), Sunny remains sleepy, posed on the brink of reality, tired and quiet.

When the day comes that she is no longer trotting happily by my side, when I can no longer stroke that blessed velvet head, I will be truly (again) berefit.

Have you had a pet that meant everything to you? If so, tell me about it.