My Friend Sim
Jan 20 '07
The Bottom Line She's my friend and I love her.
Sometimes being an adult is not all that wonderful.
I remember being a not-adult, dreaming big dreams of all I would do and of all the flight inducing freedoms that admission into the eagerly awaited life of adulthood would engender. However, I have found that reality is not quite always the stuff of dreams, and that while I do have much more freedom, it’s normally along the lines of being free to choose which bill gets paid first and whether or not I’m willing to eat Ramen for a week in order to afford that new sweater.
Because, you see, the joys of adult freedom are intrinsically intertwined with the reality of adult responsibilities. And, as you grow in your freedoms, the responsibilities tend to keep pace right along side of you.
I didn’t pick Sim out of a crowd. She was gifted to me. My brother was moving and needed a place to stash his puppy whilst he settled in. Since he was settling in across the country, we decided that I would dog sit for a few weeks. When he finally settled in to a rental that didn’t allow pets, we decided that I had gained a new dog. This was perfectly fine with me, as I loved my new dog and had been sinisterly plotting to keep custody of my friend anyhow.
We all loved her - me, my children… my husband decided that Sim had to stay outside but his opinion didn’t count. It doesn’t matter that Sim’s a Border Collie, hound dog mix. She was a house dog and that was that.
So Sim and the kids grew up together. I guess you can count me in on that growth experience as well, because I did a lot of growing in the coming years also. Sim played with the kids during the day and guarded them at night, making her rounds through the house as we all slept, ensuring all was right with her world. When the children each picked out a kitten, she put up with training two cats on how to act like a dog. Now that takes patience.
But mostly, she was my shadow. She walked at my side and slept at my feet. She helped me clear out the mess when I dropped the chicken I had planned for supper, stole the bologna when I was making sandwiches, and listened to me work through every problem I’ve ever contemplated. And when I left my husband, taking two kids, their cats and toys, five guitars, one computer and a roomful of books, there was never any question. My dawg came with me. And she’s continued to guard her world - me, the kids, the cats, and her house and yard - and love us all.
Now it’s time for us to show our love for her.
Sim’s twelve years old and she’s hurting. She has arthritis and tumors. She can’t get up and down the back stairs very well anymore. She’s losing her balance more and more. She fell off the deck and isn’t recovering. She cries in her sleep and whimpers when she moves.
I’ve always said that I wouldn’t put her to sleep until she no longer enjoyed life. Yes, she was getting old, but she was still happy. Chasing squirrels, barking at the birds, and trying to con me out of bologna whenever I made sandwiches. This last week she’s woken me up every night - crying. And I’d get up and sit with her, talk to her, pet her – just love her. In the morning I’d take her on the deck and watch the birds and squirrels play while Sim sat at my feet. Quiet.
So toward the end of the week I called her vet. Because, you see, I am an adult, and when you have adult responsibilities you sometimes have to make decisions that you would give anything in the world not to have to make.
But her appointment is not until Monday, simply because I wanted one more weekend to sit out on the deck with my friend at my feet, watch the world go by, and feed Sim all the bologna she cares to eat.
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