This morning started off like any other morning starts for me.
As always, I woke about 10 minutes before my 5 o’clock alarm did. It would seem that my bladder has a standing wake-up call of 4:50 am, and it just refuses to sync up with my other alarms.
After getting up and donning what even I considered to be too many shades of blue between my shirt, jeans, shoes, wallet, and phone, I went back into the bedroom to get Faith, the TharpSter TreadMill up for her morning feeding. In recent years, she’s taken up residence on our bed when she’s not on a walk with Mag-B the SLab and me.
Just in recent months, feeding her has been a challenge as well. We haven’t been able to put a dish on the floor because she acts like she has a wicked sinus headache whenever she puts her head down that low. We’ve also had to start feeding her soft food because she’s become either picky or has developed a kibble intolerance in her grill.
I think it’s a combination of both.
Never the less, I prepare a plate of soft food for her and sit down on one of those 5 gallon (pronounced ‘gal – yun’) buckets that I used to sit on when coaching Little League. I then hold the plate down to about the 2.5 gallon (again, pronounced ‘gal – yun’) level and she proceeds to dig in if she finds the odor palatable.
One of us has trained the other pretty well.
In approaching Faith this morning, she appeared to be in quite an uncomfortable position. Her head was tucked pretty far into her chest.
That was my first sign.
I then stared at her stomach for a minute, and proceeded to shake her awake.
About five weeks ago, we were discussing her condition with the Vet. Based on her age, lack of energy, and eating habits I made the passing comment that Faith would be gone by the end of March. Even then, we all agreed that it wasn’t quite time to say goodbye yet.
I guess Faith didn’t appreciate my remark because she survived March.
The 20th of April marked five years since Hope, the star of The Pit Bull Diaries passed away.
When that day rolled around last week, I made a mental note that it would really, really suck if Faith passed on the same day.
Leave it to Faith not to share any type of anniversary with Hope. She hated that dog, and Hope wasn’t really fond of her either.
Last night when I got home from what amounted to a twelve hour day, I warmed up a couple of drumsticks for dinner and shared a few bites of them with Faith and Charlie. Anymore it’s rare that Faith joins me at the table demanding a tribute, but I guess she was in rare form.
As the night progressed, she paced up and down the hallway, wondering if she still had it in her to jump up on the bed that she’s placed into eternal dibbs. She used to jump on the kitchen counter all the time, but it’s been awhile since she’s done that. I put her on the bed a few times, and she jumped right back down and paced some more like she always does.
At the end of the night when I was going to bed, I put her up there one more time. She turned a cookie or ten to get her bearings, and then plopped down for the night.
By the time morning had arrived and I had donned a few too many shades of blue, Faith the TharpSter TreadMill passed away.
Under the expectation that all dogs go to Heaven, I would like to think she’s been reunited not with Hope, but with that toe we had to amputate 11 years ago.
We’re going to miss you Faith.
