I sit in the back yard of the senior dog sanctuary, near the spot where I said my final goodbye to Clyde. He was euthanized a couple hours later, and with his passing, another great dog went out of my life.
The river is running brown and gurgling behind me. My mind meanders to Clyde’s Mick Jaggar-like tongue and his comically fiendishness for treats.
I smell woodsmoke and it becomes almost Proustian in nature to me. I had some incredible woodsmoke moments in my life. I know there will be more, but I’ll have to start the fire, in reality and metaphor.
Bonnie comes over for a treat. What a sweet dog. What nourishment she has provided to me. My cells fed upon the nourishment while I reanimated as a human being last year.
How do you thank dogs?
I have a great notion: next summer I will teach a writing workshop at the sanctuary, invite writers and their dogs to see this magical place, prompt the writers to write about dogs, and perhaps produce a special publication extolling the virtues of having a dog. I would charge the writers my usual fee and then donate all the proceeds to the sanctuary.
Yes, a great dog notion. I feel blessed they still come my way.