Sun streamed through the window, bathing me in a delicious yellow warmth. I closed my eyes for a moment, imagining the sweet promise of spring. It had been such a long, dark winter.
I was out at Flight Coffee Cafe, sitting in one of my favorite seats, finally feeling good after a horrible weepy month of missing my little dog, Gigi. Her passing shattered my heart and left me with such a raw sadness.
After I wrote my last post about the dog’s passing, a fellow blogger sent me a thoughtful comment. Ray Laskowitz is a New Orleans photographer and storyteller, http://www.laskowitzpictures.com. Ray reminded me of what the well loved children’s book author, Dr. Seuss once said, “Don’t cry because it’s over, smile because it happened.”
Dr. Seuss’s words became my mantra for the next few weeks. Dr. Seuss helped, Ray helped and many friends had comforting words. But what helped the most was writing it all down. Again the power of words have been able to soften sadness.
I bought a beautiful journal to write about my little dog. The pages beckon to me. Every word I scribble is like a warm beam of sunshine. Every sentence and thought fills my heart. Years from now when I find her memory fading, all I have to do is pick up my journal and read how happy she made me feel.
I am not the only one getting older, my little dog is 11 years old and has become senile. Gigi is a sweet girl and for the most part seems content in her new mind set. What is troubling is that now she has become afraid of what she loves most – car rides.
Normally, my little terrier mix can’t wait to jump in the passenger seat beside me. As we drive down the road, she will settle into this almost zen like trance. Now she can’t jump that high, so I have to lift her in and then she starts trembling for about 30 minutes until she calms down. It breaks my heart to see her lose what she used to look forward to.
She has taken to pacing and walking in circles in the house. Fortunately, she seems happy and content doing so. I does drive me crazy and now she is always underfoot. When we go for our beach walks she does the same thing. She will circle around me. The only time she goes in a straight line is to inspect a clump of seaweed. She loves to stick her nose in the smelly pile and when she is done sniffing, she will christian it. She catches up with me and resumes walking around me in a large circle.
I look down at my little old friend and she looks up at me with bright eyes and wags her tail. We are both happy and enjoying each other’s company walking by the ocean.
Tomorrow she will forget how much she loves to ride in the car and she will tremble and be scared. But then she will remember how great the seaweed smells and how good it feels to pee on it.