Sweet Abby

She is a reminder to me like the worn edge of a child’s blanket or stuffed animal that much time has passed.  Her senses are fading, bones stiff.  She hops sideways up the flight of stairs on two front legs.  Her back legs function as one. Hop. Hop. Hop.  A groan escapes her chest as she plops on the landing gazing down to the world below.  This is her watching place.  No surprises for an aging dog who likes to snooze her day away in peace.  I wonder if she dreams of all her times playing in Idaho snow or swimming or hiking in the backcountry.  Perhaps she is dreaming of her next life as a human.