The Old Girl

This is Luna. If she were a human being, she could now vote. She’s 18.5 years old and most people can’t believe she’s still alive. The neighbors will whisper ask, “Is Luna still around?” She doesn’t run around in the yard as much so they don’t often see her. I assure them she is well, and they stare at me in disbelief. I think what happened is this: around the time she turned 14, someone said, “You know, Luna is getting old and she might die soon, so you need to start wrapping your head around that.” Friends can be brutally honest sometimes.

I quickly scooped Luna up and declared, “Shut your mouth, she will never die.” Luna heard me (she still had her hearing at the time) and said, “Okay.” And so, she is still kicking. She’s not kicking very fast, and she is definitely kicking with arthritis, but she’s still kicking.

She has messed up “cherry” eyes, and something weird is going on with her tongue (I won’t say more about either, as it will put you off your dinner), but she still has ears as soft as a puppy’s and is the sweetest old girl on the planet.

I do fear that her time is approaching soon to cross the rainbow bridge, but I am loving the time I have left with her. Also, I have been thinking this for years now. My son is in college and I have pictures of him at 15 months old, playing with puppy Luna on the floor. My daughter is a junior in high school. Luna is older than her. She’s never known life without this dog.

I know I’m not the first to say that dogs don’t live long enough. They shine bright during their short time with us. But Luna is doing everything in her power to keep on going. Maybe she’s been forgotten by Death (although I did hear that there was a dog that lived to 31, so probably not). I appreciate her efforts to continue to love us. I know I will always love her. Now I just need to find something to do about her breath.