Circling to Sleep

"...a heart-wrenching kindness"

I wake to dragging footsteps;

he circles the dinette, clicks ’round the kitchen,

walks the hall, our office,

in and out of my bathroom without drinking from the toilet.

My husband and I now leave the back door open;

I hear him drop from kitchen vinyl to garage floor,

his push and flap out the doggy door,

his push and flap back in, not stopping to look at the moon...

more clicking, then padding, more dragging over carpet,

room by room he wanders till I rise.

In the hallway, we meet,

his frail form backlit by the green glow from the computer;

he doesn’t startle in the dim light,

though his eyes are crusted, and he no longer hears,

I scratch his head behind his ears.

He follows me to the bathroom,

and while I pee, I scratch some more,

bury my face in the back of his neck,

smell the sourness of his aged breath,

the sweetness of his lingering life,

Please, I pray, take leave in your sleep.

Don’t wait; don’t make me decide.

He raises his head and backs a step,

not wanting to be scratched into forever...

I wipe and flush and rise

to straddle his wobbly body,

leading him by blue collar, down the hall and to our room

to the twin sheeted mattress

we’ve placed low at the foot of our king-sized bed.

This time, he doesn’t trip;

climbs the inches up on his own,

circles once, circles twice,

a slow three times

as I slide back under the covers,

he disappears with a “plop” in the dark,

and licks himself to quiet sleep

with the same gentleness I’ll need

to lick my wounds, no matter how he dies.

Reviews

[barleygirl]

This is such a precious scene you've painted in words. This is the ultimate of SHOW instead of tell. You capture so many of the things we pet-lovers all cling to . . . listening to those clicks almost like a language that tells us what our pets are up to in the darkness . . . having a pet approach the rainbow bridge & already we're dreading the possibility that we'll have to decide when & if to put him/her down & hoping it doesn't come to that. These are the deep-down feelings we often feel but rarely mention. Love the playfulness of this: "He raises his head and backs a step, not wanting to be scratched into forever..." (((HUGS))) Fondly, Margie

[PamiAnde]

Margie, you're obviously an animal lover who's been there. Thank you, again, for taking the time to comment on my writing. I'm embarrassed to say so, but I've been needing the encouragement. Wondering why I write, and why share. Do you go there? HUGS! Ande

[barleygirl]

There's a part of me that thinks my way of seeing the world is too weird for most people & my writing will never be understood by the masses, but I've learned to accept that. I've gotten to that point in my life (I'm 64) where I write for the pure fun of it & I don't care if anyone reads it. I don't need a readership to validate that writing brings me alive. When you get to that point of freedom, your expression becomes more honest & uninhibited, so that more people read you. When I tried so hard to say something relatable to other people, I was not interesting to other people. Now I just write whatever whimsy is flicking thru my mind at any given moment when I have the gumption to sit down & capture it, but people like my writing more now. So I guess it's all about being yourself & just saying what you have to say. There will be people out there who find you & love you becuz you are saying what they think, too.

[John the Baptist]

I can identify with this one. I have two aging cats, and I sincerely hope they have soft landings and easy sleeps. I don't want to be the one to give the nod to the vet. I've been there before, and it hurts.

[PamiAnde]

Thanks for commenting, John. Yes it does. Louie's send off was not as I'd hoped, but the vet did come to our home, so he was in his own yard and in my arms. I wish you peaceful, gentle partings.