April 15th 2009 7:01 pm
[ Leave A Comment ]
Harley's health had deteriorated rapidly over the past six months, but that was to be expected considering his ripe ol' age of 15 years. Suddenly he was not the muscular fat head that I had rearranged much of my life in order to accomodate his issues. He was my "senior guy", "my old boy". He would no longer strut out to the yard. Instead, he developed this 'Bambi On Ice' routine where he would try to gallop, but his legs were not cooperating. Each and every day he would make this trek to the backyard with his tail wagging and his legs flying in directions that seemed physically impossible. My once stoic soldier became a grumpy old fart. His appetite was never affected though and he routinely chowed down like a Champion. Until a couple of weeks ago.....
There was no tail wagging nor high steppin' gait. He could barely keep his balance and he lay down completely once he was in the yard. My boy was dying and I was so unprepared for him to leave me. I carried him back to his bed and laid beside him. When I awoke that morning, Harley appeared to be in a stronger state, but that quick assessment on my part was very short-lived when he made no effort to try to stand. He let out a heart-wrenching cry as I pulled him to my lap where he gently laid down his head and died.
Harley was my gentle soul, my hero and my protector. He was such an intricate part of my life for so long that I feel a loss beyond compare.
See all diary entries for Harley|