It’s almost time.
She’s been fading, fading, for months; I wasn’t sure she’d make it this long. But we are nearing the end.
I see her hunched-up walk and my breath catches in my throat. I scoop her up and hold her against my chest and tuck my chin into her fur and whisper No, not yet! I’m not ready.
And I set her back down and she walks fine and it’s clear that she’s not ready yet, either.
But it’s coming, and when she’s ready I’ll have to be, too.
Even if I’m not.
My beautiful Bean. . . !