Tuesday, August 16, 2011

Hoofprints and Gary

No matter what Gary was doing, if Billy was anywhere nearby, he would have to be a part of it.

I decided to insert this blog-entry from January, 2011. I think it gives an insight into the preparatory trauma we experienced months before we finally said goodbye. 

I just talked with Stacey, my vet. She stopped by this afternoon to see how Billy is doing. He doesn't have long, I fear. She will drop off a different kind of medicine to manage the pain in his left knee tomorrow. She said that he may do ok for another month or so...but then, the day WILL come when he just won't be able to get up once he lies down. Bless his dear heart. He is still so alert. still whinneys when I go out to feed him...still relishes his organic apple or carrot before lunch. Oh, my gosh. How on earth can I even think about the inevitable. The pain deepens with every passing day, knowing that each day only brings us closer to his last. Nearly half my life he's shared. The great given, that which I love I must someday say good bye to, is always shoved aside, deep into the recesses of tomorrow. But tomorrow always comes. May God give me the strength.

McBean said...
I've been thinking about Billy Bob all day, strangely enough. He's a member of our family and so much a part of each of us. He's been through every season of my life and I can truthfully say there is not a time that I can remember where he wasn't part of what made life life. The season of goodbye is a time we can all safely dread, I think.

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