As he aged, he became feeble and clumsy. Blindness and deafness didn't help him much either. But he kept chugging along. I mean, in the end, he lost his battle, but he lived a noble life and died a noble death. He went until he just couldn't any more. And honestly? At twenty years old, he didn't owe any one of us any favors anyway. I mean, in human years, that would have made him well over a hundred years old. But he never gave up. He gave a great fight until the fight was all spent up. He didn't give up any of it at all. Everything he did, he did to the fullest. Granted, the last ten years, the things he did were eat, sleep, make potty and fart. But regardless, he did them all very well and he enjoyed the fuck out of doing them. Sometimes, he fell off his bed when he was sleeping. Sometimes, he'd end up peeing on himself or stepping in the healthy pile of the shit he took. Sometimes, his gas offended even him and he would have to relocate from his favorite comfy spot to go find another. Sometimes, he didn't get as many nommy treats as he would have wanted. But he kept moving right along. A serious back injury didn't stop him either. Blindness, deafness, old age, arthritis. All came with harsh effects, but none stopped him. He just kept right on going.
I think it's a rather important thing that I should take something from watching him all these many years. When I say"he didn't give up anything" he really didn't. In his end, he even gave us an incredible rally that I really believe to be nothing short of miraculous. It was a short lived rally, but Otis made sure that every last bit of what was keeping him going was spent up to the last drop. And when he went, it was when he had nothing more to give back. That was it. It was all used up and completely spent. And that, to me, is the way I'd like to be and the way I'd like to go out, despite all the obstacles that I have to face or whatever. But just remembering to keeping driving forward and not lose the fight in me.
Otis has been gone for two months and three days now. I still think about him quite often. His blanket and pillow are still set up on the floor by my bed. It's the last of his things, but I just haven't the heart to put them away quite yet. It's strange how, sometimes, late at night, when I'm feeling a little low and can't sleep, I can hear the distinct sound of the tags on his collar, like he was shifting his position on his pillow. Him letting me know that he comes around to check up on me and that in some way, he's still here with me, making sure that I didn't forget any of the lessons he had taught me over the years.
Thanks buddy. I needed that. I'm good now. You rock!
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