Never so much absence, though, and not just absence,
never such a sense of violated presence,
so much desolation, so many desperate last hopes refuted,
never such pure despair.
Surely I know by now that each death demands its own procedures of mourning,
but I can't find those I need even to begin mourning you:
so much affectionate accord there was with you,
that to imagine being without you is impossibly diminishing;
I relied on you to ratify me,
to reflect and sanction with your life who I might be in mine.
So restorative you were, so much a response:
untenable that the part of me you shared with me shouldn't have you actively a part of it.
Never so much absence, so many longings ash, as you are ash.
Never so cruel the cry within, Will I never again be with you? Ash. Ash.
- Charles Kenneth Williams
It's been two weeks -- two weeks that both seemed to fly by and also to last an eternity -- since we had to help Maggie, my Belgian Tervuren and best friend of 14 and a half years, cross over to the Rainbow Bridge. She is everywhere, yet she is nowhere. How is she not here?
I wish I had her puppy pictures stored digitally (although I will, soon). The Toodles was an insanely adorable puppy. I have been buried in boxes upon boxes of pictures this past week, finding forgotten pictures of Maggie in her younger days, treasuring every memory.
We picked Maggie up from a breeder just outside of a reservation in NM in 1997; we spent several days there, seeing the litter every day, until Pink Girl came home with us. She flew under the seat in front of us after an overnight flight delay that caused us to sneak her into a 'no pets' hotel. She experienced airport pizza for the first time during the 7-hour layover the next day in Dallas. And then she arrived here, home, a little older than 7 weeks of age. And that day was the start of something amazing.
Maggie was scared of everything -- shrubbery, lawn ornaments, strangers, other dogs, balloons. Over the years we worked together as a team, teaching her that New isn't Scary, and that people and other dogs predict Good Things. Her desire to be a Good Girl was strong (as was her love for treats!), and within the space of a couple years, we had progressed to being able to attend others' group classes, to go uptown to the busy outdoor music festival, and even to accepting handling from techs (usually . . . ) at the vet office. She was my demo dog in some of my classes, and she even helped as the 'stranger dog' to help other dogs learn to be calm and happy in the presence of other dogs. Oh, how she could shine. She never did grow to love strangers; that was simply her nature. She did, however, learn to accept them, and even enjoyed their attentions from time to time.
I have lost other dogs and other pets to this Great Beyond; although those losses were heart-wrenching, nothing has ever hit me like this. The Toodles was "that dog". That dog that changes your life, your perspective, your path. That dog that becomes such a part of your soul that you can't imagine a world without her.
She was my greatest teacher, and the dog that led me into training as a profession. She was my muse.
Her ashes came back today; she is with me once again. Guiding my actions, my training, my every dog-related move. My muse.
I was asleep while you were dying
It's as if you slipped through some rift, a hollow
I make between my slumber and awakening.
the Erebus I keep you in, still trying
not to let you go. You'll be dead again tomorrow,
but in dreams you live. So I try taking
you back into morning. Sleep-heavy, turning,
my eyes open, I find you do not follow.
Again and again, this constant forsaking.
- Natasha Trethewey
Here is a chronicle of her last day on earth, her last day with me, the day when the Impossible became Real.
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