WELCOME TO THE NEXT AVENUE SPECIAL SECTION
A Dog’s Life By Steven Reiner
“The most and best I can do for Ernie is to try and make each of his remaining days beautiful.” Now I know that Ernie's time on earth will almost certainly be far shorter than mine and I know that he doesn't have a clue. Once far in the distance, the horizon that marks the place where Ernie's life ends is no longer hazy. Recently, a lump inside of him was diagnosed as a sign of particularly deadly kind of cancer, malignant. At most, six months. Ernie is liberated from fear or regret. He doesn't worry about what to do with the rest of his life, because he's too busy with the moment, even if it entails doing nothing. He has no bucket list; the only bucket he cares about is the one that holds his food.
What can the end of a dog's life tell us about our own? The question may seem prosaic or even absurd, but now I am trying to extract meaning from this painful moment.
Up until now I had considered myself very fortunate.
My dog Ernie just turned 11 years old. If dog year calculations are accurate — Ernie and I are now both in our 70s — he'd finally gained a few years on me.
The best life is now, without a yesterday or tomorrow. He lives until he can't, without a shred of bitterness or self-pity. The most and best I can do for Ernie is to try and make each of his remaining days beautiful. And I wonder, when the time comes, if that's the best we could ever do for ourselves and for those we love. Whether the days number in the dozens or hundreds.
Despite our considerable physiological differences, Ernie and I (above) have had aches and pains and the inconveniences of creeping decrepitude. Don't get me wrong, he is still astoundingly young at heart and can be as relentlessly playful as a pup.
But the long beach walks are shorter, and we step a bit more gingerly down the stairs.
As I face Ernie's mortality and eventually mine, I will struggle and try to keep that close to heart.
Read more stories like this on NextAvenue.org.
In my case, among other things, I no longer take boot camp classes which would render me immobile the following day. For Ernie, it's losing his legs during a squirrel chase or stumbling during the once effortless hop onto the back seat of the car.
Photo credit: Steven Reiner
14
NEXTAVENUE.ORG
JUNE 2022
Made with FlippingBook Ebook Creator