Old Yeller

Tonight my 10-year-old twins are having a hard time falling asleep.
They know the end is near, nearer than anybody wants to admit, for Yellow Dog.
You see, the nearly 13year-old lab we affectionately refer to as Rufus, Yellow, Stinky, Jacka--, Old Lady, Dufus, Schmoofus and sometimes even her real name "Boise" is really starting to fail.
We've thought she was on her way out before and she fooled us. But lately, but watching her arthritic joints try to get up and go I realize they are getting up and going. As she tenuously rises from her well-used doggy bed, I can see her back leg slip.
Yet, despite the arthritis, incontinence and often bad case of flatulence; despite the myriad of pills she takes each night (see previous blog on how I got in on that action once) she is still wagging and eating.
Despite the long naps, she still remembers every morning to get to the front door and wait for it to open onto the front porch. And there she sits, paws hanging over the top step watching the kids get on the bus. It's the same at 3 o'clock each afternoon, when she limps to the front door once again waiting for the return of her family.
She's even still a little feisty. This summer, she could still destroy a hosta within minutes. She has taken to barking in the middle of the room for no good reason. And she refuses to go up the ramp into the back door without a push from behind. And at about 10 o'clock each night, she appears around the corner and plops down on the rug in front of the tv. And then she waits. And if you don't get your duff off that couch to lay down next to her for some ear scratching, she will roll over and start making the weirdest noise so you can't hear the tv.
We can barely recall the days when Yellow was a spaz of a puppy, and if you've seen or read Marley & Me you know just what I'm talking about. But I'm okay with what I have now. And for as long as I've got, I'll appreciate the loyal, sweet and loving (and okay, stinky) dog who became one of the family more than a decade ago.