My Old Girl, by Kat Magendie

Kayla trips again this morning while on our mountain walk. I lean over, pet her thick soft fur, murmuring, “It’s okay, old girl.” She’s been tripping more lately; her arthritis. She looks up at me, and there is blood on her tongue and mouth. “What’d you do, old girl?” When she fell, her long tooth must have torn her soft mouth. She’s impatient to walk on, and hasn’t let out even a whimper. I figure she's in pain, though, and I'll give her a pill when we get home. She’s strong. She’s stubborn, willful. She’s determined. We’re a lot alike, I think. She loves her walks, and I don’t want to think of a day when she can no longer enjoy them. I take her to a runoff of cold, running water and she drinks. I think how everything ages, every living thing in the world.

Her dark muzzle is turning white, her limp more pronounced, her eager sprint turned to slow plodding walk. It’s as if she and I are growing old together, but unfortunately and sadly, she is aging faster than I am. We turn on the road and head to the place where the creek tumbles down over rocks in a roar. We never see anyone here, and if it weren’t for the development happening around us, I’d feel as if I were in a magical secret place. I look down at my old girl again, and she looks up at me, her soft brown eyes trusting and kind, but I know that, like me, she has her moods and those moods are to be respected. We understand each other. I touch her head. I wonder what she thinks of me, of the world around her.

How did our canine friends become so important to us? Important enough that when they get sick or old and then finally leave us, we grieve with a ferocity that is hard to bear. We miss them terribly. And what do they hope for in return for their gifts to us? Food, water, walks, a few pets, and kindness, which I gladly give my old girl, and our younger dog Jake (big ole boy). I’m grateful for the devotion my dogs have given me. They thank me back in their dog ways. Kayla and I limp together down the old mountain road. I don’t want to think too far ahead, to when she's not by my side. She's here now, steady, true, solid. Old Girl, my good old girl.