Spiderman

      My dog's name is Spiderman. Before I got him, I worked on coming up with the perfect name for a dog. It was between Spiderman and Boy Howdy. I polled my friends and Spiderman won. If I ever have another dog, I will name him Bill Murray.
      We call Spiderman, Spidey. Or Spider, or Spide. I like when Desmond calls him Spide. Spidey was 9 years old when Desmond was born and before that, the dog was my baby. I was never an over the top dog owner. I didn't buy him clothes although he did have antlers for Christmas. I have baked him dog treats a couple of times in his life.
      When Desmond was born, Spidey limped for a few days. I think he was looking for some attention. One day, while my sister was visiting. Desmond was a week old or so. Spidey was at the back door barking. My sister said, "I think the dog wants to come in." And I said, "He doesn't bark like that when he wants to come in." And she said, "He does now." My sister is very smart. From then on, he did. He needs to. Because otherwise me might forget he is out there.
      He is 13 now. He was a 2000 baby and his birthday is exactly three months before mine. I bought him for my 26th birthday. Picked him up November 19th, 2000 and he was exactly three months old. He was brown like a bear with a black face. He is a wheaten terrier and they are all dark when they are puppies and then they grow light fur. Desmond did the same thing, come to think of it. He was born with a full head of dark hair and now he is all blond.
      So Spidey had 9 good years of being the baby. When Des was born, he was demoted to dog. I could not manage walking both of them at the same time very well. I tried. The older Desmond got, the harder it got to bring Spidey on walks. Desmond tormented him. I think I have finally trained Des to leave our poor old Spide alone mostly but he still gets some over excited hits and shoves and too tight hugs.
     This year, Spidey suddenly got old. He does not see as well or hear as well or climb stairs as well. Today he seems especially troubled by getting his legs to do what he wants them to. I put some coconut oil in his food and some of Desmond's liquid vitamin C in his water. I gave him a warm gentle bath, his doggy vitamin for his joints and half an ibuprofen in a banana. Although Joseph, my nurse husband says dogs should not have ibuprofen. Oh well.
     I have had a few dogs in my life. I have never had one just die peacefully in it's sleep. Seems most dogs go according to when it's owner decides the dog or the owner has had enough. I hate to think about making this decision. And how will I tell Desmond? Oofa.
      I tell myself I will do some reiki for him. And maybe that will help. And I am afraid I won't. Because there does not seem to be enough time in the day to reiki my old dog.
      This is really depressing.
      I thought because this is what's on my mind today, I should write about it. So I did. And then you read it. And now we both feel bad about my poor old dog.
     Mostly I wanted to say that I gave him a warm bath and a banana and that felt good. I wanted to say that I love that old dog.
     I would also like to say that I hate picking up dog poop. It is one of my least favorite things to do in the whole world. Especially if it has rained recently.
     One last thing. There are moments in our lives, that remind us of past similar moments. And the memories of those past moments can make the present ones much harder. As we get older, our collection of memories grows. It's like our wing span gets so much bigger and there is ever so much more to feel. It can, at times, be a little overwhelming.