June 19, 2021

White Dog looked puzzled as my eyes teared up and my voice caught. "Oh, Baby Girl," I peeped out before the flood gates opened.

I did not have the words to describe the rush that filled my heart and soul at the sight of her, traveled from the office, around the rest of the napping Army, and through the narrow passage formed by my computer cart set up in front of the bed. She walked in to see me! On her own power! My Girl!

It is hard for those who are able to truly understand the little things those of us with impaired mobility give up but they are losses of bits that are, in their own seemingly insignificant way, important. I no longer spend time in the office; and White Dog (once she lost the ability to use the dog door) stopped coming into the bedroom. We would meet in the living room when the family gathered for meals and conversation but there were no drop-in visits to just hang out together...

...and yet, her she was, for the first time in uncounted months, leaning against the dresser leg and panting a bit, but in front of me...here to say "hi" and "I want to be with you."

She managed the last few steps to press against my leg. The effort it took was apparent.

I choked down the emotion to call Steve to help her up onto the bed. "What an amazing thing, Little White Dog of My Heart," I told her when we were alone again. "What a special gift and inspiration.you give me."