Francis

Events are in short supply this week. My neighbors across the street are moving. I’m not unhappy to see them go what with the yapping dog that never saw a leash and loved to make the trip across the street to relieve himself in my flowerbeds, to the little girl who never shut her mouth, I feel like throwing them a goodbye party.
The 1.5 inches of rain was a welcomed sight. I really thought I could hear my Hydrangeas and Peonies sighing in relief and seriously, I thought I heard my grass squeaking with pleasure as the water soaked into the ground.
Sandy Rushton lives next door to me. Her son was in town for a two week visit and I know she was very pleased to have him here but sad to see him leave.
Last week I mentioned my friend Lynn Reese who is Volunteer Coordinator for the Augusta Chapter of the American Red Cross. She and Bill, her husband, who is a professor at Augusta State, have a dog named Francis. Francis is seventeen years old and for most of those seventeen years he has worn a Texas State flag bandana around his neck. As you may have surmised, Lynn and Bill are from Texas. Francis is the friendliest, sweetest dog anyone could ever hope to meet. For most of his years he has also been the most energetic, however, the past months have brought troubles to Francis. His age is creeping up on him; his eyes are going; he doesn’t hear as well as he once did; he has trouble with his back legs and his kidneys are failing, yet he never gives up.
This past Monday Lynn and Bill had to go out of town to a funeral. Francis had been declining over the weekend so I volunteered to go over a few times that day to check on him. Upon my arrival the first time, I found him huddled on the bathroom floor shivering and barely acknowledging my presence. I sat with him a while; I talked, he huffed and shivered. My second visit found him exactly where I left him. Still shivering, cooler to the touch but still acknowledged my arrival. I felt sure he would die before they got home and I told him that he could not die before his mother got back. Don’t laugh; they are our children in our hearts. Lynn called me upon their return to tell me he was right where I had left him and she was really worried that this was it. The next morning it was identical to the previous day as it was when she came home at lunch to check on him. All afternoon she agonized over the decision that seemed inevitable. At the end of the day she arrived home expecting the worse or expecting to have to make that call to the vet but when she opened the door there was Francis, running around then rolling on his back, kicking his legs, smiling the whole time as if to say, “I’ve beat it again”. Needless to say, they are both thrilled as am I. Needless to say that one day he won’t beat it and needless to say he has been a great friend, child, companion, dog, buddy for seventeen years and when the time comes it is going to be really, really sad.
　
Note: Francis died two weeks after this column was written. Lynn was devastated for about three days then she got a new dog. I do not undersand this at all.