Our lives have chapters. Childhood and adulthood in their many separate branches. Private lives, with their mysteries known only to us. Connected lives, which we share daily with partners, friends, spouses. Ephemeral lives, the ones we share with the clerk at the lottery counter, or the barista who makes our daily coffee. The lives we share with our animals, the lives we share with the creatures of the world.
Carl and I lost an animal, Holli, on Tuesday, the last day of August. We had shared lives since February of 2002 and felt utterly enriched by her presence. As she aged with us, she grew from a goofy blonde greyhound with a Fred Flintstone 5 o'clock shadow to a sweet, yet reserved, regal beauty. We called her the Honey Dog for her personality and the Soft Dog for her smooth coat. We mellowed, too, growing easier with age ... feeling less called upon to adventure. Perhaps a good thing, or, perhaps not.
We were enriched by her presence; but that seems pat.
I think that the people and creatures and times that define our lives do constitute chapters. Our thinking is shaped by our days and our reflections upon them. We grow with parents, siblings, children, friends, animals and all provide us with bricks of love and insight for the foundations of our time on earth.
Holli offered love, companionship, a measure of silliness, and total trust. And she asked for so little in return. I miss her selflessness, and her sweetness.
She was a lovely chapter in our lives. And I hope we were in hers.
Good-bye, Honey Love.
No comments:
Post a Comment