I must confess to a lie. I have misled you all.
I have described myself as my mother's sole carer.
(For these nine days)
I now realise, that's far from true.
There is another.
And to be frank. He shames me.
He shames me with his devotion. With his selflessness.
He shames me with a love for my mother that is so deep.
So all-encompassing. So unconditional
That I feel like a fraud, next to him.
This is my mother's dog.
He is mum's best friend
Yet for all the companionship he provides. The comfort. The support.
He is viewed as the burden upon the burden.
Yes, he is ridiculously and annoyingly protective.
If anyone dares approach my mother. He barks. He bares his teeth. He snarls.
It doesn't endear him to anybody. But my mother.
So much so, it was suggested to me it would be easier if he was kennelled while I was here.
My god, I would never have forgiven myself had I acquiesced.
What right do I? A fly-in, fly-out, presence in my mother's life.
Have to seperate the inseperable.
What's more, after an uneasy start, we already have developed a relationship.
I was asked today, why he no longer barks at me, when he barks at so many other more familiar faces
I think its simply because I respect him
I respect him for being the only one who is always there for her.
The only one who never, ever looks upon my mum as anything but a treasure.
The only one who is overjoyed by every single minute he gets to spend with her.
And I think, somehow, he understands. That I appreciate him.
So yes, these nine days, I am not taking my queues from mum's regular carers,
Nor the professional carers who drop by each day to help with the things I can't (won't) do.
I am taking my queues from a dog. Because quite frankly, nobody seems to care more.
This is part of a series of pieces. I. Nine days https://commaful.com/play/s0me0ne/nine-days/ 2. Day one of nine https://commaful.com/play/s0me0ne/day-one-of-nine/ 3. Day two of nine https://commaful.com/play/s0me0ne/day-two-of-nine/ 4. Day three of nine https://commaful.com/play/s0me0ne/day-three-of-nine/