Mina is a smiling fiend. Some may claim she is panting here, but it is more than that.
Mina has been having her ups and downs lately, particularly with food. Some days she eats, some days she doesn't. I often use Celeste as encouragement to get Mina to eat, but that backfired when Mina forced herself to eat, then threw up. By the day's end, she was happy to eat but I feel guilty for trying to make her eat when she isn't in the mood.
Others see Mina and think she is young or middle-aged. I don't. Watching her, I see a brilliant spirit in the body of an old dog. She is active, but she is also fragile. I soak her food now, because it hurts her to eat. Before bed, I massage her back and legs, because she is sore. Every few weeks, she tweaks her left shoulder and spends the day limping. Her brown is turning white, and she tires easily. Her night vision is horrific, and she sometimes runs into random things during the day.
It's all so normal, mundane and natural. But I'm human, so it is so much more for me. Watching her age is watching her disappear and reappear, fade away while existing in a solid state. I hold onto every second with her in a painful embrace.
Dogs are kind of the best.
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