Since Leo can't talk, I've relied on the position of his tail to monitor his recuperation. When we first visited him in the hospital, the morning after his surgery, his thick, heavy tail -- normally a lethal weapon -- was tucked pitifully between his legs. Even when he wagged it, that wonderful symbol of canine contentment remained stuck in the downward position.
Each day, Leo has been able to lift his furry smile a little higher; by Sunday night, it was almost parallel to the floor. But yesterday morning, when Phil arrived to fix the furnace, Leo did his best version yet of smiling from ear to ear. His tail lifted above the ninety degree mark, waving back and forth at its customary full throttle. Pure, unadulterated joy, simply because a vaguely familiar human had stopped by. Leo really couldn't give a shit about the heat.
Naturally, I've been worried about whether going forward with surgery for a ten year old lab who probably has cancer was a humane thing to do. We weren't ready to let Leo go, but I can't help but wonder whether the decision was best for him. More than anything, his lusty bark and enthusiastic tail wagging has reassured me. Leo is alive and well, for now, and enjoying life's most simple pleasures. Like a car rolling to a stop in front of our house; or a sudden gust of blowing snow; or (his and Manny's personal favorite) high school kids pouring off the school bus at three forty-five every weekday afternoon.
I was pretty happy to see Phil the furnace guy too, but only because I couldn't wait to smell and feel actual heat coming through the vents. I have never been able to grasp the concept of simple pleasures the way Leo and Manny do. But sometimes I get it. Right now, I'm smiling from ear to ear, because Leo just managed to jump up on the couch.
perhaps a few of those delicious croissants would make the tail go even higher!! so happy he's feeling better.
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