TIM: I'm sorry Deborah.
ME: Thank you. It hurts.
TIM: He's old. You had him during his best years. You made each other very happy.
ME: I think so. It still hurts.
TIM: I can see that. What are your immediate plans?
ME: Well. It's difficult. He's still so very much "with" us. He smiles. He wags his tail. His hearing has improved. He barks at people that walk under our balcony to "protect" us. He does this adorable thing with his paw when I'm petting him. If I pull away too soon, he puts his paw on my arm so that I have to keep petting him. It's heart-breakingly sweet. And his eyes. That's the hardest thing. They're so soulful. They communicate everything. I think he knows he's on the way out. He knows how much he's loved. He knows we're constantly here for him. He's never ever alone. He sleeps on our beds with us. He's always in front of one of us. He watches me do the dishes, the laundry, and work on the computer. He watches Eli play the piano. We carry him downstairs to be outside. Peter sits with him on the balcony to get fresh air. I prepare his food twice a day. He gets fresh rice and turkey. I cook one or two eggs. I give him two baby aspirins a day and I put a Xanax in his food bowl twice a day as well.
TIM: So, his food has a street value?
ME: Basically, yea. I've made "the call" and found a place that will help us out when the time comes to take him in. I think that's going to be pretty soon. I'm comforted by the knowledge that he knows that we love him. He really knows it. We've been privileged to care for him and demonstrate to him our love. We've been blessed to be able to serve him. Really blessed. So...do you have anything to say?...any advice?...any words?...
TIM: This was a tough challenge. He's a masterpiece. He's ready for the runway.