High Tide, Again

The tide is always moving.  Coming in or going out.  All the time. But I really only notice when it’s at its high, or its low.  As though it’s a surprising change.  High tide again.  Wow, how did that happen?

Everything changes.  All the time. I know that.  Each day, each moment of each day, is slightly different than the previous one.  I think maybe my observations skills aren’t what they should be.  Or maybe I am so rooted in the false idea that life is static.  But I typically don’t notice the little changes as they’re happening.  I go on pretending that things are staying comfortably the same until a change becomes so obvious that I have to stop and take notice.

Our yellow lab, Lucy, has been a member of our family for the past 12 years. She’s a mama of 18, two litters of nine. Her years are catching up with her. Her face is mostly white now, and she has some fatty tumors growing on her ribs and near her hip.  In spirit she’d still like to go out on a hike carrying her own leash in her mouth like she always has.  But really, the yard is adventurous enough these days.  

Lucy and I have developed a morning routine over the past decade.  After Geoff gets up in the morning Lucy will stand up from her blanket near the foot of our bed and stretch.  She’ll walk over to his side of the bed, wag her tail into the side of his dresser for a few beats, look at me across the top of the bedspread, and snort.  Some mornings I tell her to come visit, or ask her how she slept.  Other mornings I pretend to still be asleep.  Either way, she’ll stay there for a second or two before leaping up onto the bed.  She’ll smile. She’s always been a smiler.  I’ll greet her with “Good morning,” and she’ll bury her nose against me while I scratch her ears.  Then we’ll visit for a few minutes before starting our day.

This morning that all changed.  She got up from her blanket on the floor at the foot of our bed, and stretched.  She came over to Geoff’s side of the bed, wagging her tail against the side of his dresser.  She looked at me across the top of the bedspread, snorting a good morning. Then she hesitated.  I gave her the invitation, patting the bed next to me. She tried to jump up, and didn’t make it.  

Her tail kept wagging, and she was smiling.  I encouraged her some more, assuring her that she could do it.  But she couldn’t.  And she knew it.  She stayed on the floor after that, eagerly wagging her tail and snorting.  

And just like that change came, without me seeing it coming.  High tide, again.  Wow, how did that happen?

Although if I was really paying attention I would have seen that Lucy’s been having a tougher time jumping up onto the bed these past months.  She has to think about it for a few minutes, willing her body to catch up with her spirit.  Some mornings her nails dig into the bedspread trying to hang on because she didn’t quite have the strength to make the jump all the way up onto the bed. 

If I was really paying attention I would have realized that she’s been slowing down quite a bit over this past year.  She often groans when she lies down.  She’s much slower to get to her feet when she hears something.  She’s irritable at times, which has not been a part of her personality.  And some evenings even going up the stairs to go to bed takes great effort for her.

But I wasn’t paying attention.  I was pretending.  That things weren’t changing.  That the tide isn’t constantly moving.  Coming in and going out.

Lucy and I have a morning routine.  But this morning our routine changed just a little.  She got up from her blanket at the foot of the bed, and stretched.  She looked at me across the top of the bedspread, and snorted her good morning.  She wagged her tail against the side of Geoff’s dresser.  And I got up out of bed and sat down on the floor next to the bed to greet her.  

I asked how she’d slept, and she licked my hand.  She buried her nose against me, and I scratched her ears.  Then we visited for a minute or two before starting our day. Just like we always do.

And I realized yet again that change is constant.  The tide is always moving.  Coming in or going out.  All the time. I guess I had just forgotten that. Or I’d managed to pretend otherwise for a time.  Either way, it caught me off guard again this morning.  Wow, how did that happen?  High tide, again.