Until recently, Allie hasn't been much of a literal couch potato. When I watch TV, she's usually nearby on the floor at my feet or on a little fleece rug next to the fireplace. But lately, she's been hopping up onto the couch where I'm sitting, with my permission. Once she's on the couch, she'll generally curl up in one of the corners and snooze awhile--unless she needs a potty break or thinks it's time for her dinner, in which case she'll paw me and/or stare at me.
But last night was different.
Last night, I gave myself over to the finale of that sci-fi/spirituality mash-up known as Lost, which certainly lived up to the hype that had preceded it (rare for a series finale. Case in point: The Sopranos.) Not everything about Lost's denouement was perfect, but at a number of intervals, I certainly cried. The whole thing was very emotional--and, on an emotional level, was wholly satisfying. And part of that emotional satisfaction was that during a good chunk of the two-and-a-half finale, Allie was not only on the couch but was stretched out next to me with her head in my lap.
I've always loved the Jungian idea of animals serving as spiritual guides--and while I'm not ready to say that watching Lost last night was a spiritual experience, it was really good to have Allie there with me while I was undergoing my various stages of emotional catharsis.
By the time the episode was over, Allie had gone upstairs to bed. But I was still very happy from having had her there with me like that for awhile. That happiness doubled when I saw the final scenes of the episode: our hero Jack finally letting go, finally able to cross over to the other side, looking skyward to see the plane carry his friends away--and with Vincent the dog by his side. That's the image staying with me now, the morning after.
Pictured above: Madison, the dog who portrayed Vincent on Lost.
3 comments:
Lilly usually hides and/or sleeps elsewhere at night, but she TOO stayed with me on the couch last night as we watched the LOST finale.
And, yes, as if I wasn't bawling already, to have Vincent be there at the end with Jack was both sweet and crushing.
I thought that ending was perfect.
I enjoyed your article about Allie accompanying you while you watched the last episode of Lost. It reminded me of the times when Jordan (my dog, a black Terrie mix) would cuddle up on the rug at my head or near the heater as I watched TV on the sofa. Of course these memories are of a time after the days when she was so hyper that she could never have set long enough to watch a commercial let alone an episode of a show. I miss those times because now Jordan is now about 16.5 years old and only leaves her bed when she wants to eat or thinks that she is missing something to eat when I am in the kitchen or when she needs to go for a potty break. Other wise, she is sleeping on her bed in the foyer to the garage, which is located near the den where I am in the evenings. This hurts me because she has gone from a very vibrant, super hyper dog, to a very old, very arthritic dog. I don't think that she sees or hears very well anymore and maybe that's why she does not bark anymore. I am at the point that I feel that I am just keeping her around for my own selfish reasons because I enjoy having her in the house.
The vet informed me about three months ago that she was in renal failure but I think that was misdiagnosis because she has a good urine output, she eats very well, and does not seem to be lethargic. She has some good days when she seem to want to be out side but she also seems to be in great pain so I limit her walks down the driveway. This really hurts also because she once ran around the backyard to chase the squirrels anytime you opened the back door. It is sad to see her just stand there and watch as a squirrel or cat dashes across the yard. I know that she is in great pain as she can barely walk to get out the door. The vet says that she should only be given a morphine base pain reliever but I think that this would make her sleep even more.
Some days she seem to have such sadness in her eyes. I am just so torn. I keep thinking that when it is time, she will just go peacefully in her sleep. But other times I feel irresponsible in seeing her suffer with such pain in walking. When should I let go.
Torn in Georgia
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