Human Assistant again --
It wasn't a very long era, it's true ... about 45 months. Longer than JFK's presidency, shorter than Carter's, and even that wouldn't have been as long as I thought it would last.
But while Tucker was with me, it was definitely his era.
My buddy didn't make it through the night. He became just conscious enough to whimper about the pain somewhere in his belly; his breathing was becoming more labored; and his blood pressure wouldn't come up - which would cause him to go into cardiac arrest before long, the veterinarian said.
I let him go. I stroked the side of his face and the top of his head like he really liked. If he could feel the pain, maybe he could feel that too. And while I watched his face, everything else stopped.
Everything changes so fast. Yesterday he slept next to my bed and woke me up in the morning and woood at me to hurry up with food and was in everydoggy's way all day. And today, none of that.
No amusing thumpety-thumpety running from the kitchen to his crate in the living room for his Human's Leaving the House treat. No liver-colored nose under my wrist to get my hand off the computer mouse and onto the food scoop. No mostly-obedient poking around the front yard late at night while I take the trash barrel to the curb.
What was my life like before all that? I can't remember, and it was such a short time ago. So very few years stand between now and my life before Tucker. But I can't see what occupied those years because Tucker's presence stands so tall that it blocks my view.
I cherish the playfulness you showed only to me, buddy. The humor that you wouldn't share with other dogs. Oh damn, Tucker. I'll sure miss you.