For four years since our younger dog, Judge, was born, she was never alone. He had his mother, Attorney, beside him always—literally. They were constantly together—like dual grace.
In fact, he had been so close to Attorney (humans call this ‘mama’s boy’) that even if he is a male, he got all the mannerisms/habits of his mom: peeing, eating, barking, moving, etc. He wouldn't do anything without his mom doing it first. If you didn’t know he was male, you’d think he was female, except when he was in heat (this we solved quickly by having him spayed).
Recently, however, Judge sunbathed alone. It used to be a daily ritual for both of them.
We also noticed that Attorney’s face was turning whitish (or grayish), proof that she was aging (equivalent to human age of 75).
One day last week, Attorney wouldn’t eat. Mother Teresa had to force-feed her. She couldn’t stand from where she was either. And she emitted a foul smell.
Tony called our Vet who said our mother dog had to be confined for observation. Immediately she was given dextrose. At the clinic, Attorney had the most visitors: everyone in our home court dropped in on her alternately, bringing her food.
Diagnosis: infection of the uterus that needed immediate surgery. In her condition, suffering from pain and extremely weak, Tony decided to end Attorney’s agony by asking the Vet to just put her to sleep and bury her.
But son #3 was adanant. He wanted Attorney buried in our garden under the flowers like Fiscal (our cat) was. Her body was brought home and interred by Sammy, our driver, and Teresa while Tony watched the ceremony. Son #1 and son #3 were both at work. I stayed put inside the house, refusing to be a part of the last rites. I want to think of Attorney alert and alive.
And Judge? Totally lost. He was totally dependent on his mother and now without his anchor, well . . .
Teresa, who spoiled Attorney to bits, cried buckets. I am sure we all cried behind each other’s back.
Our collective prayer: that Judge will realize that he is now all alone.
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