Sitting on my couch, isolated from friends and family, I am thankful for the little girl curled up on my lap as I write these words. I know we’re all in the same boat as we navigate these uncharted waters but having a lifeline in this new world of social distancing makes the voyage a little smoother.
My dog, Hanni, is my lifeline. Not that I don’t talk to or text friends and family every day—I do—but having a warm cuddly pup sharing my space helps me through these crazy days. I could go on about the state of the world and the virus that has consumed us, but I’ll save that for another day (and hope by the time I get around to writing about it, it will be a thing of the past). Today is Hanni’s day.
My girl is almost fourteen years old and is, as my son posted recently, the new face of diabetes. Insulin morning and night doesn’t seem to faze her as she takes her injections like a trouper but, what does seem to faze her is a life no longer as she once knew it. Or, maybe it’s me. She may be adjusting to her dwindling eyesight, lack of energy and her inability to chase the ball down the hallway just fine. It seems I’m the one having trouble adapting to our new reality.
When the sun comes out, I see a glimmer of the younger, healthier Hanni and can’t wait to get her out for a walk. There was a day when she would howl the moment she saw the leash, hoping for a long walk through the grass—so fragrantly marked by the dogs that walked before her. Those days are gone. Halfway down the driveway, she is already begging for a return to her cozy spot on the couch next to me. Is it because she can no longer see the critters in our path? Or, is she just tired?
My girl is wearing down—maybe she’s ready to move on—but for now she’s hanging in there. I think she knows I need her in this time of isolation. We have a pretty good thing going. I’ll keep taking care of her with cuddles, love and insulin…and she’ll keep taking care of me by laying her sweet head on my lap.