Over the years we’ve both shared the loss of two immediate family members, two corgis, a senior chihuahua, one cairn terrier and a hospice cat.
My boy Tuck’s definitely not a kid, but his exact age is unknown.
Tuck was found 11 years ago as a stray traveling country lanes in Missouri,
not too far from a puppy mill.
The pads on his little feet were worn down from his life on the road.
“Probably dumped because he was no longer useful as a breeding dog,” my kindly vet had speculated back then, shaking his head
I’m seeing more gray hairs now framing Tuck’s face with eyes increasingly cloudy as he sits next to me this morning.
Just where he’s chosen to be.
After all, Tuck’s always been my loyal little lieutenant.
He’s also been my anchor in an often stormy sea the last decade.
They’ll likely be a sunset before too long when I’ll have to lift that anchor and finally set Tucker free.
But in the meantime, I’ll be celebrating this courageous and constant companion and the great comfort he’s always given me.
It seems this senior pup finally found his purpose.
How lucky am I?