There is so much to say that I hardly know where to begin.

Gucci is right next to me, snoring like the sweet pigdog that he is. He is taking up most of the bed, but that’s okay.

Seeing him so relaxed, seeing him smile that pittie smile (and knowing that he means it) – it’s worth getting scrunched in bed.

I can’t believe that I can reach out and touch him….and so I do.  He is soft, now that he’s had a proper bath. He stretches under my touch, then goes limp again. I love watching him surrender to deep sleep all at once – kerflunk.

I knew a month ago that he had a yucky-looking tumor. I figured it was bad news. But there is something different about knowing that through a chain link fence and co-sleeping with a dog with a very bad prognosis. It’s much sadder in bed.

Part of me wants to savor each moment and part of me wants to rush ahead. To the inevitable.

Gucci has no idea what I am talking about.

The joke is that we haven’t told him he has cancer.

He is a perfect bully dog. Big blocky head…beefy strong shoulders…bowed hind legs…. a heart the size of Texas…and a pair of gorgeous brown eyes that locked into my soul.

I told myself several times to leave it be, but I couldn’t leave him alone. I had to try because what else could I do with even the tiniest ounce of compassion…don’t get me started on why it is that no one else took out their ounce of compassion a few years ago before the situation came to this…just don’t, because I don’t begin to understand that one.

I don’t want to tell Gucci that he has cancer. I think it’s best to wait until he tells me. Any treatment we might try would no doubt change very little, and it would cause him great distress. So, no pep talks about beating it this time around,  since there is no real treatment for a tumor this invasive.

Meantime though,  I don’t mind if he takes up the bed by sleeping sideways. He can mark my house, slobber on my toes, fray my nerves a bit….but we are making up for lost time.

I intend to play a really funny trick on this dog. I am going to give him the best weeks or months a dog could dream of. I am going to keep a straight face and pass it off as the way it is for dogs, the way it has always been.

I am going to be so convincing and do it for so long that that’s all he will remember.

People in the dog world know that dogs live in the moment. Literally. That’s all there is. So a night in the sack with a human who loves you can heal many sleepless nights alone.

Dogs, especially, hate the alone part of any situation.

Gucci isn’t going to be alone again for more than five minutes in the bank, and Hallelujah for that.

When his body starts to twitch (he is now a dog who chases balls in his sleep) and I know he is out cold,  asleep, I think to myself how remarkable it is that every day this dog pulls some new trick out of his hat like he’s been doin’ it his whole life. Loving on this dog has me too tired to give examples, but I will later.  Even sleeping on a bed is a skill for this dog.

The important part is that Gucci is totally going to fall for my joke and believe all the good stuff world-without-end and forget the time alone. He used to bark all night. I haven’t heard him bark even once since he was sprung. One could argue that he’s too uncertain to bark at this point but I’d say he’s sick of barking.

He might be the most generous and forgiving soul on the planet. And all I can say is it’s time for him to get his. He’s waited long enough.