Grizz

She limped across the floor, hurting, it seemed, from some injury to her leg or her paw, perhaps from some jaunt across the yard in pursuit of a squirrel or a bird. Give it time, we were told, and we did. We gave it time, but it only got worse, until, this time, the vet took x-rays and found within her bones those cells that weren't behaving normally.
They call it cancer.
We have four children, mostly grown now, ages 17 to 27, and we've always had pets. Two, Maddie the collie and King Tut the cat, no longer are around. They died of illness related to old age, and we grieved their passing but saw it coming.
Grizzly is no pup, but she never lacked for energy or zest for life. I wrote about her once or twice in The Dad Zone column and even let her write about herself in a guest column. thedadzone She greeted us with great enthusiasm, protected our territory with zeal and made for a great jogging partner. All of this was true until two weeks ago.
So this is different, this dealing with the unexpected news that life so vibrant so soon will end. This walking in the door and seeing her on doggie bed, not bouncing in front of me we some toy in her mouth as a greeting gift.
Sad? The English language falls short with that description.
The dow is down and politics bring little that encourages the heart. But there is hope even in the darkest of times. All this other ground, as the song so aptly puts it, is sinking ground. It's not the solid rock on which we are invited to stand.
Grizzly will stay with us a few more days, perhaps weeks, and then we'll say goodbye, keeping only the memories of a dog rescued from an apartment complex trash bin, a mixed breed pup that always seemed to know every day was a gift.
Yes, there's a lesson in that, and we take our lessons on life from wherever God presents them.