Holding space for this little guy as we wait for the vet. Candles, quiet music, metta, tears. It’s a beautiful day with the windows open. It’s also a sad day as I let go of my little buddy Elo. We got one last small walk in this noontime; a final, unexpected blessing.
He went down fast, another blessing. Sunday morning he was just different. Not eating, coughing, very swollen lymph nodes. It’s very clear that it’s time, and without a lot of drama or second guessing.
Mary Oliver says “A dog lives 15 years, if you’re lucky” Elo has lasted 16, a good run.
In the same poem “A dog comes to you, and lives with you in your own home - but you do not therefore own her, as you do not own the rain,or the trees, or the laws which pertain to them.”
The poem ends “Finally, the slick mountains of love break over us.”
These tears, this profound sadness, wrapped around a core of gratitude for this being coming into my life, keeping me safe and warm and loved over so many years and so many life changes.
Gentle transition, dear friend Elo. I won’t leave you alone.
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