I didn't wake up in the best of moods Saturday morning. Instead of an alarm clock I was awakened by Chloe's coughing, something that has become a familiar sound when we go to sleep, throughout the night and early in the morning. In her sixteenth year, congestive heart failure means this will probably be her last Christmas with us. Each morning we communicate our happiness to spend another day together, her with a wagging tail and me with a chin scratch or a hip massage.
Saturday was different only because I had a large list of projects to accomplish and errands to run. The majority of my weekends in the last 3 months have been spent on house projects and running errands, another weekend of the same left me feeling crabby. The night before I had compiled the Christmas card list and early in the morning I made a list of gifts to buy. I hesitated and wondered if I should include a spot for the dogs. What could they possibly need? More treats? Theirs are homemade and our cookie jar cycles rather quickly through the extremes of full and empty. Collars and leashes? Ours are holding up well. More toys? We have a box full. And for Chloe, what do you buy a dog that might not make it through Christmas?As I picked up the house, I suddenly became overwhelmed with Christmas Claustrophobia. Although a tree was now standing inside the living room, what I really needed was to be out in the trees. The dogs probably felt something similar; torrents of rain and low temperatures have dramatically shortened our walks in the last few weeks. Grabbing leashes, I abandoned my chores and herded the 'girls' into the car.
Driving down Willamette Boulevard I could see our destination securely wrapped in fog, creating a mere suggestion that a forest lay across the river. When we arrived the dogs eagerly jumped out of the car and began to alternate between studious sniffing and running down the trail. The path was firmly packed mud, covered in leaves and the air was cold and crisp.
About a half mile in the sun parted and the few leaves still attached to trees twinkled in the sunlight as they fell to the ground. I was concerned the hike would be too much for Chloe, but she was speeding up rather than slowing down. The walk restored me as well, mostly because of the effect it had on Chloe and Raleigh. Seeing Chloe's enthusiasm I realized the best Christmas gift I could give her was one that was wrapped in leaves and the size of which could only be measured in miles.
That night I saw her sleeping and her legs were twitching while she whimpered softly. I'm pretty sure she was reliving the hike in her sleep which is the best thank you note I ever received.
For more information about Chloe's Christmas Gift go to this article more about Chloe's Christmas Gift
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