"Safely Home"

There is a verse entitled "Safely Home" that attempts to console the grieving person. It embodies that portion of sadness that we struggle with and truly gives reward to that despair. I received a bit of "compensation" today in that I was able to bring Dancer's ashes "safely home" tonight. While it was an overwhelming and immense slap in the face that the death process is still very much real, it gave me something tangible and I could at least "hold" him again. I've been reading a fascinating book, "The Divine Life of Animals" by Ptolemy Tompkins in which he outlays his attempt to discover whether the souls of animals live on. It's been somewhat therapeutic for me, sort of a validation of an already confirmed belief that I have. By accepting Dancer's ashes, it was a confirmation that while his "physical" body is not here, his presence or spirit is still with me. This is something that Tompkins speaks of in his book when he researches that primitive humanity believed that beyond the mere physical form of blood, shape, muscle, bone, their lived another form of spirit,and soul. And when the physical form was no longer navigating the material world, it returns to it's spiritual world and it's unity. "In the primitive world, the true or essential animal is a spiritual entity, ans all its external bodily trappings are just that: external and nothing more" While all of this sounds plausible, the cold hard fact is that Dancer's not with me in his physical form but at least I now have something I can "hold" onto.

"You Gotta Have Faith"

As I continue to lament my misfortune and procrastinate in really focusing on the wonderful highlights of what proved to be a life interrupted, I stop for a moment and find one of those highlights this evening. I spoke with a very dear friend tonight and strictly out of affection for her, and I know she'll assume this to be a capricious compliment, she's quite a "broad". I've an umbrella of friends who've looked after me during the last 18 or so months, and most assuredly the last 2 weeks and I'd be remiss in not giving them credit. Most certainly my friends in California whose pups went and are still going through the same disease that befell my boy. But for this "broad" who has been, and I hate to use the term "battling" for it connotes some time of war to me, living with her own cancer. For that's what she's doing...living with it and for all practical purposes, right now ahead of the contest. She lost her beloved Aussie not to long ago, from the same disease. I've asked the question of why must our beloved friends be intercepted with such a insidious disease? It's unpleasant enough that humans have to go through this. And so it is with this lady. And yet, during this process, her resolve is surely tested again and again and she maintains her self confidence and reliance on her main constant-God. Her family continues to provide that shroud of love and devotion to her. And during my global sadness, she has been the mother that I so desperately miss. The one that if she were here, I know I could lay my head in her lap and cry like a baby, and somehow, things would be better. I've always contended that I have relied on an extraordinary amount of Hope, but you can't have enough Hope unless you have Faith. Here's looking at you....you Ol' Broad.

"If we will be quiet and ready enough, we shall find compensation in every disappointment."-Thoreau

As I move into the thirteenth day of my loss, the reality begins to strike greater consequence for me and I begin to question my original resolve and wonder what else could I have done. I always promise myself not to journey down this path as in this very process only additional heartache and anguish crowds my judgment. But, it is not without merit and is part of the process of experiencing such a loss. It doesn't have to be the loss of a pet, but this invariably occurred when my parents died as well. I ask myself the painstaking question..."What else could I have done?" And the most gut wrenching one of all...."Why Him?" To pursue this, will only frustrate and actually embarrass myself. Not many people would have undertaken such an avenue of correction. If you've read any of my previous posts, the one verse, "It's Just a Dog" will pretty much answer this question. And I've already given my answer to "Why Him" as explained by my biblical quote from Ecclesiastes, "to everything under Heaven, there is a reason". But, as I struggle with this monumental loss and have such difficulty in accepting this heinous outcome, I look at the quote I've used for the heading of this post. There will be amendment in experiencing such a disappointment.

Here is one of my favorite photos of him and his buddy asleep on the couch. I can't begin to tell you how empty my sofa looks now. As his time came near, it was difficult for him to position himself there. As I lie on the sofa now and rest my hand on the top of the cushions, I gently whisper his name..."Dancer, my boy".

"Stop All the Clocks"

Stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone,
Prevent the dog from barking with a juicy bone,
Silence the pianos and with muffled drum
Bring out the coffin, let the mourners come.

Let aeroplanes circle moaning overhead
Scribbling on the sky the message He Is Dead,
Put crepe bows round the white necks of the public doves,
Let the traffic policemen wear black cotton gloves.

He was my North, my South, my East and West,
My working week and my Sunday rest,
My noon, my midnight, my talk, my song;
I thought that love would last for ever: I was wrong.

The stars are not wanted now: put out every one;
Pack up the moon and dismantle the sun;
Pour away the ocean and sweep up the wood.
For nothing now can ever come to any good.



With these words, W.H. Auden began one of his most prolific poems about death. It was with the death of a very dear person to him that he attempts to control and yet shun his emotions about the passing of this person. I look at life now as a journey and unfortunately death is included in this. I look upon death in such a finite manner now having experienced it so many times. As a child my first encounter with death came at my Aunt Elsie's. I only knew of what the "Good Book" told me that all good persons would go to Heaven and those that weren't went to Hell. I always hoped that when my time came, I would go to Heaven. And yet, I can recall also remember our first pet dog-"Duke" having to be taken away by the Humane Society. It wasn't till much later I understood that he had distemper and would have to be "put to sleep". Such a lovely and enticing term for an animal. How totally incongruous to be labeled that way. For such an act of total permanence, to be referred to in a non destructive manner. One that would belie that total infinite act; one that would enable us to think, "Hey, this is just for a little while". For when we "sleep", isn't it just for a little while? We'll soon awake and ready to get on with our lives like nothing has happened.

But, with Dancer, it's not that way at all. And while this path on his journey was enabled 8 days ago, his "sleep" period will be forever. Damn, I hate the permanence of this. I want him back.

"If there are no dogs in Heaven, then when I die I want to go where they went." Will Rogers, 1897-1935 ...

As I mentioned in my last post that I had watched "The Bucket List" the other evening and took away from it more insights. I guess that's one of the reasons I enjoy watching a movie several times. One of the points I started to engage in was this nature of animals, and in this case Dancer's, of the afterlife and whether he'll greet me in heaven. I can only say, when my time comes, I'm going to get the warmest welcome with all the animals that have gone before him and the ones that will come after. But to get back to the subject if animals do indeed go to heaven, one could argue on both planes. Depending on which arena you subscribe to; religious or scientific, will determine your beliefs. I think you know where I stand on this one but one has to look at whether an animal has a soul. Again, depending on your religious affiliation and if you look at an animal as a spiritual being with a soul. I cannot believe that God created such a life without rendering it's purpose on earth. There are those who view them strictly as utilitarian but even so, I cannot believe that when the day is done, that the working dog who gathered his sheep, or the cow that just produced 5 gallons of milk, or the Hereford who will eventually feed 25 people does not garner an ounce of gratitude from that person. I certainly view Dancer in the light of the joy he brought to my life and cannot fathom that God did not put him for that purpose and that He will not allow Dancer to return. I guess if they were good enough to get on the Ark, then they'll be good enough to enter heaven.
It is in those flowing waters that I cherish the words of Carter Chambers, "Our lives are streams flowing into the same river towards whatever heaven lies in the mist beyond the falls. Close your eyes my Dancer, and let the waters take you."

The Bucket List

I watched the "Bucket List" the other evening. A rather precarious event for me in light of the fragility of my emotional state. Sometimes it can have a reverse effect and bring some comfort. I enjoyed the movie as I've seen it several times and each time I watch it, I pick up a subtle cue or am validated by the message that lies herein. I got to thinking about Carter and Edward and their creation of their "bucket list" and wondered if a dog (or cat for that matter) would have a "Bucket List"? I guess depending on how much we attempt to humanize our pets would make that determination. And, I fall prey to that somewhat nonsensical effort. But, bear with me on this one for if you're an animal lover in the slightest sense, you'll understand where I'm coming from. Dancer is (was) a special dog; as all of my present and past dogs (and cats) have been. Each very unique in their own demeanor, description, behavior. Dancer boy was no different. I know each animal, even those that are abused beyond belief have a sense of loyalty to their owner and it's only in the cruelty or compassion that the dog receives will determine it's outcome. Nary the dog that's been struck, chained, whipped, starved, and with proper training and rehabilitation I hope could overcome that abuse. I like to think that Dancer got the best home in the world. Maybe his list would have included more dog treats, or another trip to Montana, possibly a run at being a Grand Master Flyball Dog. Well, he certainly didn't know how many points he was winning, or the trophies he received. He did it for the shear enjoyment and he knew how excited I became to see him flying down the track. But then again, maybe his most fun times were spent in the company of his "Dad", relaxing on the sofa or in the "Frasier" chair. I'll miss seeing him there.

"To Everything Under Heaven....."

For all the billions of viewers "out there" who are regulars to my blog...:>) you've noticed that my best friend was called home this past Saturday and I've been attempting to "memorialize" him with my posts as of late. It's only been four days and the barometer I've used to sequence the anguish I'm feeling is how often I have to clean my eyeglasses or take my contacts out because of the excess tear goop that adheres to them. There are times I must admit that I feel nothing. I experience such a feeling of ennui that I'm wondering if there's something wrong-emotionally. But, as I begin to do that mental rummaging I'm snapped back to reality and realize I'm in the present and the future has come and gone. The present is no longer, and as Einstein says, "the future will come soon enough". I find myself still in this archaic pine of loss for him. I have to remind myself to get out of bed in the morning and as I get in the car to go to school and walk to the classroom, I'm in a fragile state of mind. I'm transfixed to another dimension and that longing wish for time to have stood still escapes me. I'm transported back to here and remembrance of four days ago and the agony sets in. It DID happen and HE IS GONE. I think of going to watch a sunset for that was one of our favorite things to do. I got to take pictures of a majestic wonder of God's creation; that indomitable beauty of not being able to tell where the earth stopped and heaven began, and Piper, Remy, and Dancer would sit patiently with me. But alas, the thought scurries from me and reality sets in for it will only be two that go with me and the sadness overcomes me. Until I can drum up the strength to do so, this one's for you, my friend.

"Time is a great teacher, but unfortunately it kills all its pupils". ~Louis Hector Berlioz

Several days ago I posted about my best friend's passing. He was 77yrs. young, that's 11 yrs. in dog years. And I use this quote for today's post as some 18 mos. ago, I wished I could have stopped time in it's tracks. I searched for some cosmic herculean power that could have froze time and prevented any further passage. The consequences would have eliminated the sorrow I'm experiencing now, would have saved his life, and countless other undertakings to occur. But now my life is blanketed by such an indescribable and irrefutable anguish that I wish time would accelerate as the race car at Indy. The days languish and the minutes prevail as the heat on a summer's day. I ask myself for the future to come, but unfortunately not soon enough. The youthful zealot only fears time as it impedes their progress. I think Einstein's quote I used several weeks ago, "I don't worry about the future, it will come soon enough". For my little boy, the future came far too soon. And while I prefer to think that he didn't die of cancer, his future and ultimately, he just ran out of time.

I often think how I will get by in the days, weeks, and months to come. I will have to remind myself to get out of bed in the morning, the sun will rise, and another day will begin. I will be so very sad that he's not here with me, but so very thankful that for the last 11 yrs. he gave me his best.

"Now I Lay Me Down to Sleep"

I met him just a little over 11yrs. ago. I didn’t know what circumstances would ensue this union that was about to commence as I meandered down this gravel charred road that lead to his house. I remember it being a warm day in August as they usually are in St Louis and I cautioned myself that all meetings don’t fair well that are blanketed with the heat. I was optimistic however and it was difficult to contain the excitement I was beginning to feel.

I parked the car and strolled to the back yard where I was greeted by his “play” mom who said to go inside the yard and she would bring the group out. As I walked through the gate, plopped myself down on the ground, I was literally overrun by the pouncing and prancing, barking and yapping of a dialogue I knew far to well. Like a lion who circles her prey waiting for the first chance to strike, they closed in to inspect this “stranger”. With a cautious and rather demure pace several were perplexed at this thing that dared to enter their domain. He was the only one that was beyond reproach and eagerly trotted to me and promptly made his home in my lap. I knew in an instant we were meant for each other.

I got to bring him home but not without a little drama for another young boy with some emotional difficulties was being considered as a potential master. He certainly had the personality to charm and settle one as his was one of a gentle nature, a manner quite fitting for such an individual. However, it was not to be and I was able to bring him home on Aug. 28, 1999. He promptly settled in causing some havoc with the “Queen of the House” needling and disrupting her routine. He found my other four legged friends enticing and had to attempt to dislodge them from their lairs as well.

He grew as most young boys his age do….gangly, their legs far exceeding their bodies for that “ugly” growth period but after several months, he “grew” into his body and proved to be a striking and strapping well proportioned young boy.

As most boys of his age, his energy level was an exuberant bundle of warp speed. It was time to get him involved in a sport that would channel and yet allow that energy to abound. Come the wonderful sports of Flyball and Agility. His ability and speed at Flyball was something to behold. He had found a way to let loose with that excitement. His expertise in Agility would have excelled only to be limited by my senility in being able to remember which way to run on the course. “Is he supposed to go up the Dog Walk, or through the Tunnel”? If they only would have had a GPS device, I could have programmed it and he certainly would have followed it home.

I was often jealous of him with his flowing auburn hair and split eye colors of blue and amber. He was a “charmer” with any woman I would bring home, often shadowing them more than me and promptly would warm their hearts. He would follow them around like the proverbial “puppy dog” and ignore me. I had to remind him of who fed him and paid the bills. He would often give me that longing look and lick on my face as his attempt at redemption. How could I resist?

We traveled extensively with his canine buds to Colorado, Michigan, Wyoming, Idaho, Utah, Montana, Canada and Maine, and Wisconsin. He relished in these travels not seemingly caring where we headed as long as he was with “dad”.

As it doesn’t seem fair for humans to be beset by frailty or disease, to have our pets endure such a travesty is a cruelty beyond proportion. And so it was with him that fateful day in July of 2009 when our worst fears were confirmed-cancer. Like I was stabbed in the heart to hear the prognosis of 2-3 months remaining of this beautiful boy was despicable. But then a ray of hope appeared and we traveled again. This time to what we hoped would stop this dreaded disease and cheat this insidious prognosis. And so it was with the advent of such progressive technology we attempted to stop his disease.

But with the intervention, his disease proved a formidable opponent and did not give in easily. It came back and we again traveled to make another effort at stopping its’ progress. But like many modern scientific interventions, it can only take one so far, then comes God. I continued to cling to hope, that hope is a good thing and no good thing ever dies. I asked for a miracle and continued to be given one day at a time. I wished to have more. As it is with any gift from God, they are on loan to us for only a brief time and they must be returned.

Dancer Bello was called back home this morning, 11 yrs, 8 mos. I won’t be saddened to the way he died, but will relish in how he lived. There will be one less dog to feed, less poop to pick up, and my vet bills will reduce. It will be such a tragic trade off. When I leave in the morning he won’t be there, sitting on the back of the couch watching me leave, nor will he be standing at the door waiting for me with his stuffed toy in his mouth. I cannot imagine my days to come.

"Don't stand by my grave and weep for I am not there. I do not sleep. I am a thousand winds that blow. I am the diamond glint on snow. I am the sunlight on ripened grain. I am the gentle autumn's rain. Do not stand by my grave and cry. I am not there. I did not die."

This is an old Native American proverb that I will adhere to with his passing. My sadness now is overwhelming. The death of a pet has always been the hardest thing I’ve ever had to endure in my life. As I’ve aged, it only gets more difficult. I am so thankful for having been a part of his life. He has certainly enriched mine. I can only hope when my time comes and I’m passing by a certain set of Gates, that he’s standing there and will vouch for me.

“The one best place to bury a good dog is in the heart of his master”.

Neither Rain, nor Sleet, nor......

I promise this post won't be a weather report from St. Louis. I will have to "lead" into it with a brief explanation of how these photos were come by. We had the opportunity to get a major dump or a brisk taste of ice and sleet. And in the words of that dashing and bumbling sleuth-Maxwell Smart, "Missed it by that much". Instead of a crippling 18", we received still a crippling 4-6" of sleet. As I've said in previous posts about St. Louis drivers...get off the road when bad weather hits. Enough already!!!

What I'm more interested in with these photos and the reflective thought that whisks in my mind is the undisturbed and eloquence of which freshly fallen snow radiates. I look at the crisp line of ice fervently adhered to a tree branch, or the gentle balance of the shadow of the tree proceeding across the settled path of snow. Or even the undisguised trail of a deer searching for perhaps food or it's gentile berth for the evening. These are more than enough approximation of thought to look at my own life. Have I (or you) for that matter walked to far ahead of our daily lives not as the proverbial quote says, "stop and smell the roses?" Maybe I should have placed a rose picture instead. Do I think of that trail the deer is attempting to follow and apply it to my own life?? In the 60yrs. I've been here am I on the right trail, unfettered by those mundane trivialities that seek to clutter my life? I think of the quote, "Ask and it will be given to you, seek and you shall find, knock and the door will be opened for you". Gosh....if I'd only learned this about 53 yrs. ago.