I’m having very vivid, disorienting dreams again. I’m out hunting on the old farm, but instead of open fields, high rise apartments are all around. Old friends stroll by. Pop. Mort and Macy snuffle in some nearby bushes. I usually can’t remember my dreams on waking, but all of a sudden they don’t instantly fade away when I wake up. Last couple of nights have been like that… I’m in familiar spaces that never existed and they are as real as my subconscious can make them.
Ferg pees the bed at night, so I get up and take him downstairs to pee him out in the middle of the night. This morning had winter on the run and the promise of spring. +2C and I stood on the back door step in my bare feet with Ferg after he did his business. I remembered my last walk with Mort out in the country. The four of us were out on a day much like this. Mort walked where his nose led him but by that time…most of his spirit was gone and what he had left wasn’t much. He didn’t come when called, and had to be lifted in and out of the truck. Sometimes he collapsed and couldn’t get up again. I helped him up, not minding at all. Dogs tell you when it’s time for them to go; they get that look in their eyes and you just know.
I stood on the porch with the shivering ankle biter in my arms and wondered if I will outlive Fergus. Or vice versa. I wondered about Mort and Macey and about people that I pruned from my life, and those that had passed on.
And then the li’l beaner started to whine and I went inside. Hannah had stolen my place in the bed, so I threw the pup in with them and went to my easy chair to read. Instead I fell into a deep and dreamless sleep.
I’m still groggy from it… but happy.
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