Shutup Roxy is nearly 12 years old. Since I am at home most of the day, most days, she and I spend a great deal of time together. I have become so in tune with her movements, that I can tell you what she's doing by sound alone.
The other night from the edges of sleep, The Husband says, "What is that sound?" It was a low, rhythmic rub. "Do you have something off balance in the washing machine?"
"No," I sighed, "That's Roxy eating her ass."
"What? No. Do you have a metal pan lid in the top rack of the dishwasher that's getting sprayed funny? Is there trash on the porch? Maybe there's a cat in the trash."
"Nope. Ass eating."
Because he's not as familiar with the sound, he gets up to investigate and finds the dog in the kitchen, happily munching away at her rear.
Shutup Roxy's sounds and movements are as familiar to me as my own.
Leaf-like rustling, then snarfling? She's in the kitchen trash. Hurried click clack of her nails, silence, speedy retreat and snorting? The bathroom door has been left open and she's now eating a wad of toilet paper. Low groan accompanied by a strange squeaking sound? She's dragging her butt across the kitchen floor* trying to release an anal gland.
On the rare occasion that I find myself in the house alone, it is these sounds that keep me company. I find comfort in her stomach grumbles and old man farts, her low snores and heavy sighs as she lies down on her bed. At night she stations herself next to my side of the bed and I am lulled to sleep by the sound of her breathing.
As she gets older, I know the day is coming when her soft sounds will be silent, and the house will be lonelier for their absence. I will miss her when she's gone, I will miss her sounds. Even the ass chewing.
*I originally typed 'kitchen table' and it found it so horrifyingly hilarious that I almost left it.
2 weeks ago