Dogs 2

     I have always had a dog, sometimes two, three even at one point. One of my favourite photos is me, as a toddler standing beside my very first dog, Trudy. I have been in love with dogs of every size, shape, breed and colour ever since. To me, they are the perfect companion: loyal, lively and loving. They are happy to be a part of almost anything that's going on except fireworks and thunderstorms but otherwise they are pretty low maintenance. Dogs can find fun in the simplest of things, even a stinky sock or an old tennis ball. If there are snacks involved, they are in, and they have a very loose definition of what constitutes snacks to my mind. They may not be connoisseurs of what is edible but dogs know what they like and they like us, and other dogs, and sometimes cats and even squirrels if they can catch them. But they almost never do, thank goodness!

     I think that every occasion is improved by the presence of a dog, from a casual walk on the beach to a big family wedding (they can be awesome ring-bearers).
Dogs give us reasons to walk, to walk longer and more often, in all kinds of weather. They help us make new friends all the time just by making friends with one another, which usually happens quite quickly with just a bit of sniffing involved. They are great listeners and usually don't mind if your nose is wet or your breath is bad. I am not sure how a wild wolf evolved into the cute, fluffy dog that is our daughter's doodle Stella but I endorse the process one hundred percent. Most nights she is crowding me out of our king size bed but I don't mind. What can I say? I love dogs!

Alzheimer’s

     I walk quickly up the hall towards her; I see her in the distance and I wave, “Hi Mum, hi, how are you?”,  I call out. I walk towards her and she, in a wheelchair, puts her hands up in the air and then brings them down to her face as if to say “Oh my goodness!” and then she declares “You found me! How did you find me? How did you know that I was here? I knew that you would come!” She is incredulous, amazed, blown away even. She clutches my father’s hands and can’t let go; we are something familiar in a world where nothing is really familiar. She praises us and gives us compliments we don’t deserve: how smart, how clever, how amazing even we are to have found her….

     She gazes adoringly at my father and can hardly take her eyes off him. She holds his hands hungrily and drinks in the sight of him like someone parched and thirsty. She kisses his hands and asks him how he is; her concern for his health is deep and profound. He basks in it despite his incredible pain. I witness their love of seventy years and take photos for my siblings. We cannot respond to her pleas to go with us; we must distract her and speak of incidentals: the weather, the garden, the birdhouses.

     Before we go, I wheel her to her place at the table for lunch and grab a bib from the hamper to protect her clothes. I push her wheelchair into her spot and kiss her face. My father makes his way slowly to the doorway and waves to her from a distance. I walk away, fighting the urge to turn around and look at her once more. He and I find the path out the door into the sunshine and once again, we drive away, until next time.