Blends happen

My first impulse was to blog about a memorable dog. Always loved Jim's poetry and as a kid and adult that had dogs, it really spoke to me. Googled to find one of poems that spoke of a dog that had passed and found out about his passing also. This blend just came out.....

When I was dating my then girlfriend I inherited her dog Bear. I swear to this day the dog was touched by extraterristials. If not abducted. She was a chow + lab equation. Energy with its own atomic number and athletic skills! If there was a canine olympics, this dog would have owned the gold. Could jump an 8 foot fence from a standing position and could do marathons back to back to back. Oh yeah, all the while carrying a deer leg bone in her mouth. The damn dog ate a chipmonk for a training snack once. Good God as James Brown would say!!

This dog was graced with a deportment that bordered on devilish. She would get out and that would be a situation, to say the least. Run amok is a phrase that comes to mind. To prove this point I offer this: what dog on the loose would pick one house out of an entire neighborhood and trash a zen rock garden?

She was miraculous in her insanity. It was a classic love/hate relationship. But if the truth were told, and I'm doing that, she was the first dog to sniff our two oldest as infants to give them the accepting lick upon their heads. I guess it was her welcome offering to our pack. It came from her heart as it is with all dogs.

I have fond memories of her leaping through a foot of freshly fallen snow, or in winds that made me rush inside for warmth. She would be out back in her prime wagging her question mark tale and smiling a smile that would all but convey," buy the food moron, my ass is free!"

We moved to milder yet harsher climes about 4 years ago. She was an old dog now, still full of piss and spark if you caught her on the right day. Her muzzle had grayed and her hips ached her fierce. I don't think she really could hear anymore. She was the one family member destined to stay in the cooler climes of 7,000 feet.

I took her to the vet that day. Amidst the chaos of packing and moving. I had her sit up front so I could scratch her ears and talk to her. The short 5 minute trip to the vets was a flood of memories: of falling in love, of fun walks in the mountains, of watching my wifes belly grow with our first two sons, of secret whispers in the shovel ears of baby b.

I lifted her on to the table. The young lady vet explained that it was painless really and that she would have suffered moving down to the valley with its 110+ degree days. She asked if I was ready and I just nodded my head.

The first shot made her groggy in about 15 minutes. I talked to her as I did my sons when they were young and fighting sleep. I spoke of blazing aspens and her then jet black fur. Her endless energy and the excitement she would have at the thought of a baby hamster being nearby. The sigh that she would utter when she laid against the woman that I had fallen so deeply in love with. She sighed one last sigh and snuggled her face against my hand.

The doctor asked me if I wanted to say goodbye before the last shot was given. If I wanted time and then had the option of excusing myself before the grand finale. I opted out and stayed. I owed Bear this last gesture. The shot was given.

Her body tensed and I felt that familiar strength again. I felt her leaps, her escaping bursts of speed, her essence. It was over, she was gone. The vet said I'll give you a few minutes. As I stroked her gray muzzle one last time, I thanked her for her being part of package deal. It was the best bargains I've ever had.

People and pets don't last forever. I'll wander these broad manicured suburban streets for you tonight Jim and Bear.