Our sweet little Bucky passed. He was 17 or may be even 18 years old. He lived a long, healthy, happy life (except for his early years, before he was rescued). He was such an enthusiastic, happy soul who was a constant model for how to live life with grace.
We humans create mental stories around our experiences that make things harder for us. Especially when things don’t go the way we want them to. Even one little mishap can set us off on a spiral (Ie, Why does this always happen to me?; Why does everything have to be so painful/difficult?; Now I’m sick on top of everything else that’s already going wrong, etc.) But dogs don’t do this.
For the last year or two of his life, Bucky was blind. He didn’t let it ruin his life. He didn’t even let it stop him. He still walked around the house sniffing for crumbs. When he bumped into walls or doors or whatever it was, he didn’t feel sorry for himself, he just course corrected and kept sniffing for crumbs. He was so inspirational to me partly because he was a constant reminder to be simpler, and to always remember that love is more important that any physical form or situation. He was also a constant reminder that we can always choose what we focus on–and what NOT to focus on–in every moment. He was the perfect pet and companion, and I’m so grateful he was in our lives for as long as he was. Even though he’s physically gone, he will forever live with us in our hearts and memories. May he rest in peace. My little Boo Boo.
The Way I See It 