Rudiland

"It's a fearful thing to love what Death can touch."
I was listening to This American Life yesterday afternoon and this was said. I don't remember who said it, but it was on a program titled "Last Words." I didn't listen to the whole program. I seemed to get stuck right there.
Right here. Right here is my dog, Po. he's coming on 15 years old. His walk is slow. So slow in fact that to walk for two short blocks, we can take 25 minutes. But he looks forward to the morning walks.
But the fifteen years are showing. He staggers about and he's getting that kind of transparent look, and his head hangs down low. And he's so friendly. Guests come in and he'll kindly look at them and maybe lick their bare toes once or twice. What's funny about this is the was a terror in his youth. Even just three years ago he would keep someone coming to the door from thinking about coming into the house.
Three years ago I had my friends Jeff and Brad from Dirt Rag Magazine visiting. They'd come with Chipps Chippendale, he's the editor/main man from Singletrack magazine and they were all sleeping over for the week. The 24 hours in the Old Pueblo was taking place that weekend, and we were all participating in some form or another. Anyhow Chipps was trying to connect with Po. Just one of those matches not made to work. He'd try to play or just pet Po, and well, Po would just give a deep growl of disapproval. A smile crosses my face thinking about it. Chipps and Po.
Then there's my father and Po. My dad, who loves dogs reached down to greet Po not long after we brought him home. Po at that time was a rather aloof and distrustful dog. He's never been one that likes lots of attention. One or two gentle pets and he's done. And so there's my dad going to embrace the new dog. Nope, didn't work. Po gave a sharp reproach to my dad for entering his space without his approval. You know, one of those barks that sends the receiver back about five feet. Dad and Po never have connected.
But things are different now. Po spends most of his time sleeping, walking slowly, and sometimes he'll eat. I never force anything on him. What ever he wants, he gets. Ground beef and some vegis and rice. A walk in the morning and in the evening if he wishes. Looks like tonight there will be another. I don't know how much longer he'll be around. One day or a year maybe but each day is a pleasure. He's given Aimee and I so much, for as scary as he seemed he's a true love.