I think Jake is on the last leg of his journey. He's been a tough one. We've clocked him running alongside the car at 22.5 mph. He's been my escort since I arrived at the kingdom, almost 7 years ago.
Last Christmas, he got worn down a bit. But it was nothing that 4 weeks of inconvenience didn't cure.
Yesterday, his back legs gave out.
JB apologized for interrupting my intense study period, while expressing his concern for the top dog. I needed the break--and we trudged up the 45 degree incline where Jake had decided was far enough.
We rolled him over on to a quilt and then decided it wiser for JB to drive the pickup up to fetch him, as opposed to caring his 80-pound mass down the hill and back up the other side.
It sucks. I hate to see the king of the neighborhood realizing his human frailties.
We deposited him into his bed--with a new quilt. He's moved slightly since then.
The one thing I can count on is the tail wagging in acknowledgement whenever I speak to him.
He crawled out of his bed today on to the concrete just a few feet away. JB and I--just now-- several hours later, picked him up and put him back in.
I had a Shepherd, that after 13 years, went through something similar. After three days, we put her down. Three weeks later, Elijah Blue joined the scene. The girls never bonded with Blue. I can't help but think it was was the memory of our shepherd, Sasha, that kept them from it.