God's Waiting Room

Victor Harbor shares the nickname of God's Waiting Room with all the other retirement communities around the world adjacent to uncreative humourists. It's also got a few nice places to walk and is in close proximity to a good bakery. When I planned the weekend away with Vanessa and Nash a couple of months back I hadn't expected it to be much different to previous Nash holidays where Nash excitedly follows us up and down hills and through waves and then has a huge snooze while I drink a beer and then backs it up when the light is good for photography again.

Nash has been a bit limpy lately, but only when she gets up from lying on hard tiles ignoring the bed only metres away. I'd dismissed this as possibly mild arthritis coupled by her pretending to be a pretzel on our rock hard floors. Yes she is a decade old now, and her face is going a bit whiter around the edges, but I have never doubted that Nash wouldn't be a huge jerk slash adorable body of fluff for years to come. She's a mix breed, full of energy and sass, and I pay loads for high quality dog food for her.

The limping has become a bit worse over the last week and a half. I limp sometimes too, and I get over it, so I am hoping that's the case for Nash too. I can't help noticing how much older she looks when her limp affects her walking. The age seeps out of her. She looks so confused because the last time she looked in a mirror she was a chunky, golden, zooming, unstoppable beast. That's how I remember her too.

Nash had a great day today. She cruised country roads smelling cow pats, then climbed to the top of the bluff, then took a break for coffee. After coffee she walked to the rock pools out past Petrel Cove and over hills of granite. She's been there before and she loves it, teasing the waves and submerging herself in the rock pools and then zooming across the sand.

It was a real challenge to get her all the way there. Her legs, or her spirit, gave up on her. She enjoyed herself immensely once she arrived, and the destination of the car was motivation to complete the walk back, but while I watched her having fun at the beach I really couldn't stop myself from thinking that this was the last time she'd ever visit this place and have this experience. That was tolerable in the moment. I could handle these feelings while it meant Nash got to have a good time.
It was during the walk back, watching her trot with noticeable preference for one side, that I had to stop myself from hyperventilating. It's not the last visit to the beach for a dog that depresses me, it's the walk back to the car afterwards.

Nash is not dead and I think she will continue to rock out for a couple more years yet at least, but today was another gruesome reminder that life is cruel and that all of the awesome things about dogs risk being cancelled out by their far too short lifespans. I aim to keep her in God's Waiting Room for as long as possible - and by that I mean splashing in rock pools by The Bluff, not suffering for my benefit - until the time has to come. And then, good luck God because you have never met a dog like Nash.