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Dogs also allow us to see the effects of aging in a shorter time frame. This shortened time frame increases the intensity of the change associated with aging. Instead of seeing loved ones around us grow old and change over many years, the typical dog will make comparative changes in only months. The only other change that may compare to this level of intensity is seeing your child grow up. With our two kids, my wife and I kept quite a list of “firsts.” We anxiously awaited the first loving look, the first smile, the first crawl, the first word, the first step, the first “I love you,” the first school day, the first read word, the first sign of faith, etc. We loved each new first and would celebrate the joy of each one. Then, even though our kids are only 7 and 9 now, it seemed like things turned upside down and we began to be caught off guard with a never ending list of “lasts.” You know what I mean…the last time a diaper was changed, the last time you were awakened at night with a cry, the last time they needed help getting dressed, the last time you wiped a bum, etc. I know both lists will continue to grow, but the list of firsts is much more fun. We can expect firsts and look forward to firsts and celebrate firsts easily. Lasts, however, come rather unexpectedly. They catch us completely off guard and don’t announce themselves at all. They seem to come in the dark of night without a word and silently chunk off segments of our life. It’s even easy to miss them altogether which is even more tragic. The lasts have the ability to rip or tear and even hurt, but when they are not noticed until a later time, we can’t even mourn. Mourning a last may not be like celebrating a first, but at least it can act as a marker to the event. When the last sneaks in like a thief, we are often just numb to it and being numb is never as good as a high or a low. I think this is the aspect of dealing with lasts that is hardest – we seldom even recognize a last until it is gone. Then, as if burdened with a sense of guilt for not paying enough attention, we get sad and a sense of taking something for granted arises in us. But, at the end of each tunnel is a light. With the passage of each last, and the inevitable sadness that goes along with them, by grace, we are once again reminded to live each moment thankfully and that each moment is precious. This is the light.
His Last Walk in the Woods
It was no secret that Ranger was a woods dog and loved the woods. Basically, he spent his life in the woods. As is the case with most aging animals and aging people, the body tends to give out before the mind. Most of the time, Ranger’s mind was OK, and it knew what it wanted his body to accomplish. But his aging body either received mixed signals or simply couldn’t complete the mission. In either case, Ranger became quite clumsy during his thirteenth year, even more as he approached fourteen years old. While his physical abilities kept leaving him, one by one, his noticeable love for the woods did not wane. I think it was just in his mind – the memories, the developed skills, the time. Anyway, he was almost fourteen years old and I wanted to see a spark again. I took him to the woods where my dad and I most often hunt near Jennerstown. I let him out of the truck and his mind said “sniff, run, chase, etc,” but his body just slowly meandered along the woods edge. I walked into the woods and down a slight slope and suddenly he got excited about something. It might have been a smell or a sight, but I think it was just his mind alerting his body to his surroundings…the woods. In any case, he appeared to wake up and he moved around pretty quickly with his nose to the ground. This was another case where his body could not keep up with his mind, because as he scampered down the slight grade, I could tell his back legs were having a hard time keeping up with the plan that his mind had the rest of his body involved in. It seemed as if his back legs kept falling more and more out of pace and his aged run turned into a sideways out of control two-step. Suddenly he crashed into a bush. I walked up to where he was and he immediately began working his way out from under the limbs and twigs. He no sooner got up and took another couple excited “old dog leaps” and he stopped cold and sat down. My mind was caught up in the whole sideways crash and these two leaps, so I didn’t even notice the reason why Ranger suddenly stopped to sit. I walked past him in his sitting position and stepped out on the skid trail and suddenly it dawned on me what was going on. Ranger actually had the composure, at almost fourteen and after a major crash and the excitement of being back in the woods, to notice a skid trail and remember that he was not allowed to cross it without my permission. I was floored. I just stood there, once again, and soaked in the precious moment – all of it. Within seconds, I said, “release” and Ranger entered the skid trail and sniffed around like it was just any other day on any other trail he encountered in his life. But for me, this was the cherry on top of all the training and time and effort that we shared together. I’ll never forget that moment.
Read more "lasts" (Ranger's Last "Up", Ranger's Last Day at Work) and more about the concept of "lasts" in WOODS DOG.
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