I took Lagniappe out for a walk tonight--just a short walk around the block to keep his hind legs exercised. We've done this walk a hundred times--it's only about a mile--and I swear that it wasn't so long ago that I was the one who might or might not make the whole trek back when I was just learning to walk again after losing my foot. Back then he capered along without a care in the world, motivating me and even pulling me up the hills. But lately he's been struggling a bit and I've been the one trying to motivate him. After all of the long walks and hikes we've taken together over the years, this one's never amounted to more than half an hour's pleasant diversion in the evening. Until tonight.
Lagniappe's hind legs gave out on him half way around and he collapsed. When I checked him closely, I saw that the tops of both feet had been ground down to raw flesh from dragging on the asphalt and gravel. My once tireless and invincible friend is now so far down the myleopathy trail that even this short walk is too much for him now. Thankfully a kind neighbor was willing to drive him (and me) back to the Lair. But there won't be any more evening walks together now. Those are over now, as of tonight.
It's progressing so fast and he's still so young. And there's nothing I can do for him.
It's not supposed to be like this.