For all his life Andy has ridden in the car seat next to mine, a special spot no other dog has dared covet, a place he abdicates for the occasional human only because I insist on it, and never with good humor.
Andy is always the first one in the car, and I hold the door open for him as one would for royalty. I would lift him in, but he has too much pride for it. He jumps, in one graceful leap. Or did, until the other day.
For the first time in his 11 years his legs failed him. He jumped, but did not make it. I dove to catch him as he dug into the upholstery with his claws, struggling to pull himself into the car. I was too slow, and he fell to the pavement on his back, legs flailing, his face full of fear and confusion. He righted himself and sat there, winded.
My heart nearly broke at the sight of him.
I am old enough now to have outlived nearly four generations of dogs, to watch each grow from a puppy I could hold in my hands to a dog I held in my arms for those last few seconds of life. Although the memories are so sweet of the animals I have lost, the parting is so very wretched I can barely stand to think about it. At that moment, I could think of nothing else.
Andy is far from that day, I know. His coat is lush, his eyes clear, his teeth gleaming with the benefits of regular dental care (yes, I even brush them). He still steals my socks, and loves jokes best when they are at someone else's expense. If he sleeps a little more these days it is hard to notice, because if the truth be told, so do I.
He is at a perfect age now: effortlessly obedient, self-confident and calm. He greets visitors at their car doors and escorts them inside, and he has an unfailing sense of which guests will slip him tidbits from their dishes when I'm not looking. He endures grooming and veterinary visits with determined stoicism, and he wakes me every morning by jumping on our bed and tapping my cheek with one fat white paw.
One of the most important lessons we learn from the animals in our lives is the value of enjoying the moment. While I may dread his increasing feebleness, Andy has no concept of where the changes will lead. Each day is precious to him -- fresh food in the dish, fresh scents in the air, a game of fetch, a car ride, a great many pats. Tomorrow? The word is not in his vocabulary.
I tried to remove it from mine as I watched him on the pavement where he fell, as I felt him anxiously for injury and moved to lift him into the car.
He eluded my grasp, stood and glanced at me with a look that stopped me. He shook his long, silvery coat into place and eyed the car seat again.
The second time, he made it.
I slid into the car next to him gratefully and rumpled his feathery ears. The future seemed a long way away and the fall day could not have been more beautiful.
Pets on the Web: Curious about the animal books that bookstores and libraries are buying? The Ingram Book Group tracks the best-selling titles with a new top-50 list every week in dozens of categories. The wholesaler's "A List" of animal and pet books is at http://www.ingrambook.com/surf/product_info/category_info/category_files/an.htm.
Here you'll find not only hot new books, but also longtime favorites like "How to Raise a Puppy You Can Live With" (a book I find myself recommending frequently) as well as "James Herriot's Animal Stories," by the late and still very much missed English veterinarian. Many of the books on the list link to pages with more information on each, including such insider facts as how many were printed and what kind of book tour the author is on. It's a fascinating look inside the animal-books industry, and a good way to keep your animal-related reading up-to-date.
Gina Spadafori is the award-winning author of "Dogs for Dummies" and "Cats for Dummies," and is the editorial director of the Veterinary Information Network Inc., an international online service for veterinary professionals. Write to her in care of this newspaper, or e-mail to Giori(at)aol.com.
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