Gratitude for Mia

Mia, curled up on a cushion nearby, naps as she has done most hours of the past five days. There have been flashes of Mia's usual curiosity and delight, as when our friend Susan has walked with us in the cemetery.

Still, listening to Mia (see blog post of 07/17/2019), I hear that it's time: she is not taking pleasure in her own life, uninterested in food or snacks, letting the squirrels run rampant on her deck, giving only a couple of slow tail - wags when I offer to take her for a walk.  I've made an appointment this afternoon for her with the doctor who years ago repaired Mia's tendon, who diagnosed Mia's cancer fifteen months ago.


Mia, here is a favorite photo of you from just a few months ago. In it, you've just come running to the door of the kitchen, having heard the jingle of my car keys; you are politely seated, head tilted, ears cocked, tail wagging, eyes searching mine for a clue: will we be going for a walk?


I am so thankful that I've had seven years with you. I am grateful also for Susan, who has been a companion for you through to the final hour.


PS from the following day: When I went upstairs to change for our appointment with the vet, Mia surprised me by jumping up to join me.  She hasn't been upstairs much these past few months. She hopped on the bed to watch me.  I knelt at the bedside, she laid her head on my left arm, I stroked her head and cheek with my right hand, and she closed her eyes, so ready to sleep that I thought she might have already passed right there.