Gratitude in a snore

*** Disclaimer: tear-jerker post about aging pets/pet loss.

Very early this morning when the sun was still well on the other side of the world and the house was still, I was awake, the sound of snoring in my right ear. That sound used to keep me awake for hours and it used to drive me crazy.

Now, I’m grateful for it. I’m grateful for the soft snores. The loud snores. The wake-me-up snores. I’m grateful for all of them. Even if I lose sleep.

Those snores belong to my elderly dog, Chewie, who for some reason has decided to sleep on the pillow, right next to my ear. I think it may have something to do with the Chillow that’s on that side of the bed (he likes to sleep on it because it’s cool). Chewie is on bought time, has heart failure and a host of other aliments. My poodle, Mayiah, who is about the same age, recently started sticking to Chewie like glue. She won’t let him out of her sight. Since I know dogs are pretty intuitive, it makes my heart ache even more. I know our time together is short. “Be still, my aching heart,” I often have to whisper to myself.”Enjoy every moment and don’t let pre-sorrow rob you.”

Yesterday I looked online for a dog paw impression kit. It’s time. It’s time to do it before he slips away and it’s too late.  It’s time to do it before the other two slip away and it’s too late. It’s time to face the fact that time is getting short. Not doing that for my other dog, Jade, before she passed, was one of my biggest regrets.

As my precious Chewie gets closer to his “Rainbow Bridge” I miss the days where his nickname was “Dammit Chewie” because as a puppy he was a classic terror who liked to chew on furniture and sleep in the clothes basket. He would jump up on tables and walk all over the computer keyboard — apparently he’s part-cat. I miss those days when he was young and I didn’t think about time being short. When time was long.

Right now he’s stable. And happy. And comfortable. That makes me happy. I’m grateful for every mess he makes right now. Every snore. Every time he squeaks a toy or shreds a newspaper. (He has an odd obsession with newspaper — he either shreds it or sleeps on it).

I’m grateful for EVERY. SINGLE. MOMENT. Every one. With Chewie. And Mayiah. And PJ. And while I’m at it, every other person in my life who I know time is relatively short with.

I found gratitude in a snore.

Gratefully yours,

Brandy