A friend emailed that her dog, about the same age as Murph, died over the weekend. And on Saturday, my girl just sat, for awhile, by the creek as I fished. A quiet day. I like to think of it as a spa day for me and I hope Murphy feels the same for her. A chance to wade in the river, to smell the Willows, the Poplars, the Ponderosa pine.
It's hard for her to get down to this spot. And the big boulders require us to think about it, to negotiate gently, gingerly. But I want to believe she enjoys being with me as much as I enjoy having her there, watching, waiting.
Each moment becomes ever more precious.
Murphy's day.
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