Thanking Chaco
When Chaco is sleeping, I often walk up to him and make sure he's breathing. With all the loss in my life, especially in the past year and the many young deaths I've experienced, I am well aware that none of us is promised anything. In 2009, my German Shepherd Daisy died at 5 1/2 of an aggressive, terminal cancer.
Chaco is fourteen and it's clear he's slowing down. While there was a time when the neighbor next door joked that I should wear roller blades to run Chaco and Nestle (when it was only the two of them) because they could take me as far as I wanted to go, Chaco has recently developed breathing problems and he can't run like he used to. One day at the park last week he ran with some other dogs and then stopped and you could see he realized that was about all he could do.
This is the same dog who sent me flying around the neighborhood, chasing him when he saw a cat or got scared (all documented in my book, Ginger's Gift: Hope and Healing Through Dog Companionship). While he wants to go out for his daily walk (once his daily run), he slowly is deteriorating and now dragging behind me.
Every day I tell him that I love him and I'm thankful he's been in my life. I realize he could live for years, sleeping most of the day away in the guest room down the hall (not hearing makes it easier to drown out the noise of the others barking and me coming and going in and out of the house).
He is still alert when he's up despite the fact that he's turning into Helen Keller with his eyesight deteriorating as well. He stands and wags his tail, he loves to eat, and he especially loves to lay by the pool and warm himself in the sunshine.
There's a reason we don't know the day any of us will die: it's because we should make the most of each day we have, be present with those who are with us. And with Chaco I'm making sure that I don't miss anything.
He was my first dog and he changed my life in many ways (as well as inspiring my dissertation topic). I know that his life isn't going to be as long as mine. And so when I'm making sure he's still breathing, I'm also letting him know how grateful I am he came into my life that New Year's Day in 2001.
