The End of the Longest Day

At the end of a long day, you take your leisure where you can find it. That is how I captioned the picture above six years ago according to the Facebook memory notification today. I ache at both picture and caption, because today Mabel's longest day has ended, and she has been lain down for her longest rest. I can’t tell you how difficult it has been to say goodbye to her and to have her leave us. I will never be able to properly describe the loss we feel, a loss born of love.

Jean-Marie found her and fell in love with her the moment she saw her at the Humane Society when she was a volunteer. Mabel had been placed on hold by someone who allowed that hold to expire. And so it seems Mabel was meant to be with us and we with her.

I was in Winnipeg on business when Jean-Marie found her and texted me her picture and details. It was sweet of Jean-Marie to check with me before she did anything. If I said no, she would have gotten Mabel anyway I think. But I didn’t say no. I was smitten at first sight with Mabel just as she was. Of course Mabel’s name was not Mabel when we adopted her. But the name that the Humane Society gave her, Dandi, didn’t fit. Jean-Marie saw into the baby girl’s soul and Dandi became Mabel from that moment on.

Mabel joined our family, but she was the one to set the rules. Jean-Marie was Mabel’s comfort. She clung to Jean-Marie. We would often say that Mabel was glued to her hip. Mabel simply made me her man-servant. She never wanted to trouble Jean-Marie with anything and so if she was hungry, she barked for daddy. If she was thirsty, she barked for daddy. If she needed to go outside, she barked for daddy. If she needed anything, she barked for daddy. She never bothered momma. She sat with momma. Lavished lovins’ on momma, curled up with momma. She only kissed me right before bed time, and only curled up against me during the night for my abundant body heat. That was all I needed.

She was never a dog in our household. She was a person. She was a personality. Occasionally I would put a leash on her in attempt to take her for walks, but she always looked upon this act with disdain. She did not lead nor follow. She walked where she wanted, wandered on the leash up to the point that I would eventually have to pick her up and carry her for the remainder of the walk. Of course this is what she wanted.

Mabel brought joy to everyone to meet her. She loved to go out shopping with us, particularly to Bed, Bath, and Beyond and the nearby Home Depot on North Academy. As we pushed her around in our shopping cart, people would flock over to pet her, ask about her, smile because of her. She was enchanting. She was a people person.

With all of this personality, it has always been difficult for us to believe that someone had dropped Mabel off near the Humane Society at a Walmart entrance along with several other dogs. It makes us sad to even try and imagine what the first seven or eight years of Mabel’s life had been like. She did not deserve that kind of life. So we gave her all that she did deserve, and she gave back to us unconditional love in return.

Over the years Mabel has constantly made us smile and laugh. She took our hearts and kept them safe. Because rescuing a pet is essentially a selfless act, we never considered that Mabel would rescue us in return. But that is what happened. Now today, Mabel can rest after years of taking care of us. We will always miss her, we smile at countless memories of her, and we will be shedding tears at the loss of her for quite some time.

Sailor on Leave

No life springs fully formed from the womb of its mother. There are back stories and then memory built upon memory before any fullness is attained. Its no different for Sailor. His story begins before his birth when we said goodbye to Angel.

In 2000, after 14 years, my first dog Angel passed. She was with me almost from my earliest moments in Colorado, rescued from the Pueblo Humane Society at the age of 2. She was with me through my brief first marriage, through reinstated bachelorhood, through meeting and marrying Jean-Marie. Truth be told, Jean-Marie's youngest Louise adopted and claimed Angel for her own before I moved in with the family. Angel's death was difficult on all of us. A couple of months after Angel left us, Jean-Marie made the “innocent” request of wanting me to go to the Colorado Springs Humane Society to just “look” at the doggies. I was not thrilled with the idea, I was still hurting from Angel, and I was suspicious of Jean-Marie’s motives. But we came away from that visit empty handed although I did accidently allowed that I found a Maltese there cute.

That slip of the tongue lead to Sailor joining our clan. He was a pup of a Maltese from a breeder in Cañon City. Jean-Marie had seen the litter advertised in the paper, called, and then asked me if she could have one of the puppies for her birthday that August. She said the breeder had told her the pup she wanted would come with papers, but was not show-worthy because he would likely be large for his breed. So we were getting him on sale! We were practically making money! I can never say no to Jean-Marie…never.

A deal was struck with the breeder to meet at the Highway 115 Truck Stop, so that I didn’t have to drive all the way to Cañon City. It all had the feeling of a drug deal going down at that lonely sun burnt location awash in dust devils and smelling of dry earth and diesel fumes. I handed the man an envelope of cash, he passed to me a small cardboard box containing a tiny white furry creature and a strip of wash cloth. He told me the puppy didn’t have a name yet, but that they called him Tongue Man, because his tongue poked out of his mouth most of the time.  Then he climbed into his pickup and waved as his tires squealed away in a cloud of dust. I turned back to our old beat up van that Jean-Marie and I used for floral delivery, and climbed in with this new family member, and headed north up 115 towards the Springs.

During that drive, the puppy wriggled from his box and managed to climb up onto my shoulder for the drive to his forever family, tongue out. I no longer remember how he got the name Sailor, but I think it is safe to place all the credit on Jean-Marie for that. It fit him in some way.

Sailor was not really a people person. In some ways he was like a cat, allowing just enough attention from a person to let him know that he was liked, and then he would  aloofly move off claiming a type of ownership to world about him. When later we got Stovie, a Humane Society dog – called an Australian Shepherd, looking like a Jack Russell, and eventually growing to a statuesque 90 pounds - Sailor tolerated her, but never quite cottoned to her. They maintained their own space, and 13 pound sailor without question became the Alpha dog in the house – that includes being my boss as well.

When Stovie passed, Sailor simply took the extra space to naturally be an expansion of his domain. He was a self-contained, self-assured, and commanding ball of white. He was our companion, our friend, and the boss of me.

When he would play with us, it was a game of toss and fetch with the promise of a treat at the end of the play. He quickly got the idea that one fetch of the gnarled little stuffed bear was enough for a treat. He would chase it, pick up, drop it, then run into the kitchen and wait. When we stonewalled, and insisted he needed to exercise a bit more before earning that treat, he just stopped playing altogether. Food was a driving force with him, but no matter how much he loved to eat, he would never let food be his master.

His old age was defined by a matured grumpiness that made him a classic curmudgeon. His active periods grew shorter and shorter, and his nap times grew longer and longer. He kept shunning proffered affection, because affection had to be on his begrudging terms. When we went to bed (he slept with us…or us with him is probably more like it), he would be sure to be curled up against me or my wife. He was always most comfortable being the initiator of contact. It was his way.

This 10^th of October 2017 at the age of 17, almost his whole life spent with us, marked his passing. He had lost the last of his bounce, given up what smiles he could muster, was in pain from arthritis, and was slowly yielding to dispassionate and uncaring dementia. It was his time, not our choice. Dr. Wilhoit of Bijou Animal Hospital (the doctor who knew him best) was attending physician. Jean-Marie and I offered what comfort we could to Sailor as we cried while Sailor took his leave. We now sit wet-cheeked holding each other, and thinking of him. We love you sailor, we feel you in your absence, and we remember you for so many things.