We were living in a small two-bedroom cabin at sea level, a short walk one way from a national forest, the other from the Siuslaw River. Oregon. Basically isolated, twenty-one miles to the nearest grocery or laundromat. Winter there, it rained a great deal, but, so I’m told, never snows. We paid $350 monthly, water and garbage included. Surrounded by woods, we could just open the door and let the dogs out. – JDW
One day my life turned into a country and western ballad. My truck wouldn’t start. I was out of beer and I was out of work. Been raining all day. Can’t run, got a bum calf.
At least my baby ain’t left me.
Not yet anyways. It’s early, not even suppertime.
Whoa, get ahold of yourself, Big Fella. The Ducks are still going to the Rose Bowl.
Then, the puppy died.
We got the call early Sunday morning. Andy The Dog, his Momma and I were still in bed.
Money Bigbutt Holstein is gone.
Know what you’re thinking, oh my, not another dying dog tale. This is different, this is my dog.
I want to scream.
He was the healthiest two-year-old you’ve ever seen. Movie star looks. He coulda been a contender. Years of early morning walks in the woods. Uncountable bowls to lick. Bushes to sniff. Bones to bury.
A bright future as man’s best friend.
Money stopped eating three days after we left him home with a dog sitter. He, the dog, was nearly dead on our return from an all-expense VIP visit to The Honolulu Marathon. I try not to feel guilty. We rushed the poor thing to the hospital, but too late.
Probably Salmon poisoning. We’ll never know. The vet canceled the blood tests when he found the puppy had passed on.
Newt Gingrich has been Speaker of the House for two days already and what has he done to save the dogs of this nation, our pets, from toxic fish. I say we throw the bum out of office.
Got a tad hysterical there, sorry.
The doctor told us the little fella was so down, so sick, the road to recovery would have been a long one.
Money took the other road, the road we all travel later or sooner. Feel like somebody has done a muscle biopsy on my heart. There’s a big hole in there, a gaping emptiness. Hard to catch my breath sometimes. Why do bad things happen to good dogs, I wonder.
I used to say, many of you have heard me say this, Money never had a bad day in his life….
The happiest memories make me most sad.
He was funny just to look at. I felt better simply to touch him or watch him prance. He loved to swim. He loved to wait until you were sitting on a warm rock, nice and toasty, and then he’d rush out of the cold water and shake out his long hair all over your book. Money taught us to bring old paperbacks when we went swimming. He loved to chase a stick. Water fetching was his favorite sport. I was teaching him to wrestle. When a train’s whistle would blow in the distance, Money raised his muzzle and sang the bluesiest howls.
He always came when you called.
Can’t control the tears.
Can’t find a happy ending to this story.
***
I go to church every day I am home.
My church is outdoors along a one-mile stretch of the Siuslaw River. The Cathedral Of Saint Sister Siuslaw, I call the place.
I am the entire congregation as well as the shepherd of my flock. The dogs are my acolytes. I put Andy in charge of rainbows. Money collects the offering, of course. Mostly sticks.
Some days we’d observe an hour of silence.
Other times I might preach a sermon from atop Pulpit Rock jutting over the river. The dogs appear not to pay much attention to my preaching, but I have frequently found myself a captive audience. If I don’t listen, who else will hear? Interactive prayer.
I typically would begin by quoting some verse, rarely anything Biblical, but something hopefully useful.
“Having the fewest wants, I am nearest to the gods.” That’s by Socrates, you know, and the first thing that comes to mind right now.
Then, based on the day’s aphorism, I would extemporaneously give myself a pep talk. The Beauty of Doing Without, for example. Less Is More. If You Love Something, Let It Go. You can just ignore that last one.
Remember thinking a man who had everything would be the guy closest to his gods. Life is not about wants, but about needs. And Socrates probably wasn’t even a Christian.
We went to church.
Andy, his Momma and I went for a walk after we got the news about the puppy. Too cold to hold bare hands. Drawn to the river.
We climbed atop Pulpit Rock. Andy sat at attention. Then she and I finally held hands. In Money’s memory, we took a deep breath and a moment of noise. He liked to hear himself bark. I tried a couple of howls, hollow imitations.
I screamed.
“God, I want my Money back!!!”
A righteous man regardth the life of his beast, it says in Proverbs.
He had fur like velcro. Once he touched you, you were stuck.
Letting go. I am not very good at letting go.