On our walk this morning, I passed an old tree our neighbors cut down last summer. I remember the tree well, while it stood tall. It was massive, tickling the sky and it was also lifeless. Lightening had struck it some time ago and it needed to come down.
As I stood there gazing at its dry, peeled bark, counting the uncountable rings burnt by chainsaw blades…I thought about Trev.
As years pass, with your senior dog, there is this ever growing whisper: …Time is a treasure…It is fleeting…Hold on to these moments… I’m sure that whisper is different for all of us, but you know what I’m referring to…the fear of age and the fear of letting go.
Just like the rings of a tree stump tell the age of a tree, so do the ever graying circles around our faithful companion’s eyes and the Michael McDonald beards around their noses that somehow seem to appear overnight.
How can it be, that a little gray can make me love him so much more? I think it’s because no matter how much gray life tries to cover him with, I’m always gonna see that sweet little frisky pup I first fell in love with so many years ago.
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