I have been feeling exhausted, lately. I know I’m busy but, well, the exhaustion seems to be more than I feel it should be. Tired, yes. Exhausted, no. But I look in the mirror and see the dark circles growing underneath my eyes and can’t argue that I am exhausted. My week off can’t come soon enough, though there is a part of me that isn’t in a rush to get to it.
I scheduled the week from June 6th thru June 12th off because I am taking Truman in to send him on to the next life. His hips have gotten to be too much. He is still mobile, goes for the walk every morning, well almost every morning, has puppy-like moments, but his walk has gotten stiff and its gotten more and more difficult for him to get around over the past year. Its time. I have no desire to wait for it to be worse or for him to be in more pain. That would be selfish and cruel, in my opinion.
I’m taking Truman in on the 8th. That gives me two solid days to spend with him, doing the things that we used to do, just me and him. I am also going to take impressions of his foot print. I plan on having that tattoo-ed on me as a memorial to him. Truman, my Tru-dog, has been the best dog ever in the whole wide world.
When we got Truman, we had done so for my son. Mason had been afraid of big dogs, pretty severely, and we decided the best way to get him past it is to get him a big dog, as a puppy, and let them grow up together. Truman was supposed to be Mason’s dog. Mason named him. It became quite apparent very quickly, that Truman was my dog.
Right from the beginning, Truman followed me around, laid behind my seat in the Jeep we had then, and every vehicle we have had since, tried to sneak up and sleep with me when he was still a pup and we hadn’t gotten him a kennel, yet. Though our plan worked for getting Mason past being terrified of big dogs, Mason did not end up with a dog of his own. As it turns out, that is best for him. Mason is a cat person.
It also turned out best for me. Truman has honestly been my true dog. No one in the family has ever thought Truman might be their dog, because Truman made it quite apparent he is my dog. And what an amazing dog he has been.
When we first knew we were going to lose our house at the end of 2008, we re-homed the other two dogs we had because we knew we would be in a 20-foot RV. A 1968 Winnebago. There was no way we could bring three large dogs with us. I made it clear that Truman was coming with me, despite it not being an ideal situation. I would do whatever I had to to make it work, including having a huge temper tantrum, if needed.
The temper tantrum was never needed. My husband knew the connection between Truman and myself, and that neither one of us would fare well if separated. I’m going to be a mess when he is gone.
Truman has helped me make it through the last 6 years of RV life and all that has gone with that. He always does exactly what I gently tell him to do and knows when I am having an emotionally hard day and comes to comfort me. I severely doubt there will be another dog like my Tru-dog in my life after him.
Enzo and Achilles take turns trying to be my dog. Its not the same, though. Maybe one of them will become more definitive about it once the slot is open. Its hard to say which one it would be, in the end. Achilles is pretty possessive of me. Enzo used to be the one looking like he was picking me during their first couple of years of life and then has seemed to pick Lance, though goes through periods of time when he acts like he wants to be my dog. I guess time will tell. I won’t be able to encourage either of them for a while, though. My heart will be broken and need the time to heal.