Last week I was the closest I’d ever been to a rainbow. It was a big one. The vibrant hues started at Sand Point and crossed high over Devil Track Lake. It was magnificent. While the rest of the lake was swathed with gray mist, the rainbow arch stood out in strong, bold colors.
“I’m pulling my chair closer to the window so I can watch,” I told Dick and set myself down in the living room for a better view.
Good thing I didn’t waste any time. Because in the twinkling of an eye, the rainbow dissipated. “Good life lesson,” I said, returning my chair to the kitchen.
Today as I toasted an English muffin, a loud crashing and thumping resonated from the bedroom. “What the heck…?” I ran. Dick ran from the opposite direction.
There was Abby, our 12-year-old lab/setter, struggling to get up off the floor. Without success. She was terrified. We tried to help but her claws scrabbled on the wood floor, and she kept falling, which frightened her even more. Her legs were useless. I double-timed it to the basement where we keep a cloth sling/hoist with straps, made for old dogs and situations such as this. We managed to slip it under her belly, and with Dick holding the sling while I held her collar for balance we carried her like a suitcase with legs into the living room. We set her down on her favorite rug where she wagged her tail as if apologizing for something.
We calmed her down, and Dick hand fed her some kibbles, and then hoisted her up on her sofa, the place in the whole wide world she loves best.
We’ve been lucky to have shared our lives with five other dogs who are no longer here, so I knew the score. First, we’d see how the day went. Would she recuperate or was this, to put it bluntly, the end?
A heavy sadness filled me as I went about my chores. I thought of Abby’s sweet demeanor, her goofy smile that looks more like a grimace. I thought about how much I enjoy having a big dog that loves to sit on our deck. Who never strays far. I realized I never really minded her copious shedding.
Tears had not yet come to my eyes, but they were close when I looked up from clearing the dishes to see Abby standing on the floor. She’d gotten herself off the sofa! That meant her legs were working again. Her tail was wagging. “Abby! You’re back to normal!” I was filled with relief.
I called Dick. She ate her regular breakfast, then settled back up on the sofa. I spent the rest of the day being thankful, knowing we received a reprieve.
Abby is not the same. More than likely she had a seizure. I know. I’ve been through this before. But now, just for now, she’s still with me, happy and herself, and I’m thankful for the time I still have no matter how much or how little.
A life lesson for all rainbow watchers.
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