25 days ago, my border collie Slick came to the end of his song. It’s a snowy day here in Boulder, and I am going through images on my computer. So many pictures of my horse include Slick somewhere in the background. This week I’ve been finding myself talking to him in the back seat of my car. He’s not there.
When I’m riding, I look around for him. He’s not there. Sometimes I make a mental note of it, and sometimes the pain and grief take my breath away.
This photo is of Skigh being ponied off my car, and Slick tagging along as he always did.
I have a collection of images that look like this one–a horse photo with a border collie photobomb.
Over a period of a few weeks, Slick got pretty sick pretty fast. Everything pointed to a brain tumor, and not a single diagnostic test was performed. Slick was 12, and he’d had a great run. I worked with a couple of great vets who helped me put him on CBD (cannabis oil), prednisone, and colloidal gold. His last weeks were happy and peaceful, and on his last morning, we went for a short walk in the sunshine.
Knowing details about what made Slick ill, and putting him through diagnostic tests, wouldn’t have changed a thing. Even knowing that, I had to fight the urge to “do something”. I’m glad I was able to let his need for safety and peace guide my actions.
I’ll always be grateful for all the friends who turned up to walk with us at the end. And, thanks, Slick, for helping me be a better person.
Keen-Eye Slick 2005-2017