One Last Thing – Fiction

Getting tired. Slowing down. I don’t care so much about that ball anymore. But he still throws it now and then and I go and get it for him. It makes him happy.

I don’t know why he throws it but he sure is glad when I bring it back. And then a nap.

I sleep a lot more these days. It’s good to sleep. The old bones don’t ache when I sleep. Nothing hurts. Just sleep. Sleep and dream. Yes, it’s good to sleep.

Once I’m on my feet I’m alright. But getting there is hard now. It’s so much easier to just stay here where I am. I like this little corner. He doesn’t know it but there’s a breeze that blows under the door. He can’t feel it up there but it’s nice on my neck down here. I like it. It’s a good corner.

No, I don’t like getting up these days but I still do. When he leaves in the morning I pull myself up and watch him through the kitchen window. He gets in the car and goes away. That’s alright. He always comes back. I’m usually asleep when he comes home. That never used to happen. I heard the car before it ever pulled into the driveway. I don’t hear as well as I used to. But I hear him come in and I get up to meet him.

“I don’t hear as well as I used to. But I hear him come in and I get up to meet him.”

Not too much longer, though. No, I don’t think so. He’s been a good person. I could have had worse. Some of them are pretty bad. But this one was a good learner. I’ve taught him so much. Almost all I have to teach him, in fact. Only one thing remains. He doesn’t know how to let go. But soon.

I think I’ve done a pretty good job here. I’ve taken care of him. I’ve done the best I could. I’ll miss him. I really will. But I’m just so tired. Soon. There’s that last lesson he needs to learn. And then I can rest. Soon.