I haven't been able to stop thinking about Leo this weekend. I think about him often, but the memories of my gentle old friend have so dominated my thoughts I find myself reminiscing out loud to anyone who will listen.
Curious about what I was up to a year ago today, I scrolled back through my old blog posts. As it turns out, a year ago this morning, I was calling the veterinary hospital at regular intervals to check on Leo. A year ago yesterday, he was diagnosed with cancer, and I had rushed him into surgery to buy him some time. If memory serves me correctly, a year ago tomorrow, I was sprawled on a blanket with Leo in the inner recesses of the hospital, spoon feeding baby food and trying to get him to eat peanut butter off my finger. The things we do for love.
Leo lived until Mother's Day, and his little sidekick, Manny, has never been the same. He's never stopped looking sad since Leo failed to return that night; it's as if some part of him followed Leo out of the house and somehow got lost. He went blind about two weeks later, but I don't think the blindness has ever been as much a cause of his sorrow as the loss of his best friend. Sure, Leo didn't exactly view Manny with the same kind of affection, but Manny, blissfully incapable of perceiving such nuances in emotion, was devoted, smitten, completely dependent. There is no longer any barking in the house; Manny used to only bark when Leo did, or when he happened to notice something that he wanted to share with his buddy. These days, he just doesn't have much to say.
As kind and good natured as Leo was, he was a royal pain in the ass. In his later years, he woke me every night at about two so he could go pee. He barked when a leaf blew by the window (autumn was a bitch). He left a trail of brown fur clumps throughout the house, and he almost pulled my arm out of its socket several times when another dog would appear on our walk. But, like Manny, I miss him terribly. Manny has taken over as household pain in the ass, some days making my life a bit of a living hell. But I would miss him terribly if he were not there. As sad as he is (he no longer drowns me in enthusiastic kisses), he still greets me when I come home with a wagging tail, and he still follows me around as if I am the finest person on earth.
All three of my kids want me to get a puppy so Manny can have a new friend. Easy for them to say; the dogs have never been their responsibility, just another thing or two in the house that could prove mildly entertaining when there's nothing better to do. I have finally gotten Manny back on track with his bathroom habits, and the thought of training a puppy is, to say the least, daunting.
Then I think about Leo, and Manny, and all they've taught me. I look at pictures of puppies every now and then, and feel my heart melting all over again. And I wonder how much more I will do, for love.
Leeeeeo :)
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