Lexie

Lexie hadn’t jumped up on the bed in years. Since she’d gotten older she had taken a liking to the big dog bed mum and dad had gotten her.

But as the loyal little girl she was. She decided that this time she was sleeping with her girl for an afternoon nap. Even when she didn’t sleep with me her whines and butt wiggles told me how much she missed me now that I was away at university.

I laughed at her and snapped the photo of her in the bed to send to mum and dad. They were at work. I remember feeling so happy seeing her up there. I think she might have been telling me she wasn’t going to be around much longer for her to do that.

Lexie wasn’t my first dog. But she was the one who was around during my teenage years. So I really remember her the most. Plus she was my baby. She slept with me every night when I lived at home. When I got the call from mum that they’d found cancer in her leg, I was heartbroken. But mum and dad were going to give her the best shot.

They amputated the one leg and it bought her ten more months with us. She slept with me in the bed on the floor when I got my wisdom teeth out. And a month later she was gone. Right before I could come home for Christmas. She took a piece of my heart with her.

I stared at this photo of her for what felt like days. Wonder if I missed her telling me she wasn’t going to be around for another year. That this was one of the last visits she’d be with me. They do always say dogs know these things.

When I first took the photo I thought she was being cute and pleased with herself. When I looked at it later I wonder if her head tilt and look in her eyes was something more. And if I’d have seen it if I could have had more time with her. I could have taken a semester off. Or come up for holidays more. Maybe taken the summer off and spent it with her and the parents. Because my apartment didn’t allow dogs.

I played over her final year in my head for days. Wishing I’d had more time with her. And when I lost my great grandma shortly after. I wished I’d had more time as well. I think we also want more time once it’s all gone.

And looking back at this photo I see it again. That day with her. Laughing at her and giving her all the love an attention for having gotten herself up into the bed one last time for me. Cuddling with her. Some days I feel like I can still smell her. That’s how powerful the photo is for me.

That photo may have been of her older, and it certainly isn’t my best of favourite photo of her. But it holds such a precious memory. And sometimes I think we lose that with the photos we take now.

Everything we take these days, at least I know a lot of the ones I take, are taken for some social media post. Some are from family holidays and trips. But so many aren’t just as powerful as this one of a silly beloved dog. They’re staged and edited to show off something perfect and fun. They highlight all the good in life. The parts we want to remember…. I wonder if that’s why older people start to hate having there photo taken. The photos that start to remind us of the time left, or the ones that become tainted the moment we real is it’s the last one we ever got of someone.

Well I want to say I knew it be one of the last times she’d jump up onto my bed. That she was old and wouldn’t be around much longer. I didn’t. And I think that’s where a lot of the beauty comes from. Even if the photo is sad for a long time. It’s beautiful to see them. Because we don’t know when it will be the last one. And so we must keep taking them. No matter how they come out.