I’m not what they call “a dog person. “ But I’m definitely attached to certain dogs—legendary “riot dogs” and a good-troublemaker dog, Julius, at @firestormcoop and some everyday cutie-pie pups who are companions to beloved friends. One of those dogs, who I’ve known her whole life, died today. She died many hundreds of miles away, although I could picture her imploring eyes (eagerly “asking” for pets) and the pattern on her nose that looked like a zipper in her old age.
All life is precious. Yet it feels extra so these genocidal and ecocidal days. Honoring our dead is crucial as a way to honor the sacredness of life too.
So this afternoon, I laid some freshly scavenged roses (for healing), tiny stones (for blessed memory), and tiny sticks (playthings for her journey to the ancestors, harking to her younger days of tug-of-war games with her best, long-ago deceased dog friend using big branches) on a big rock by a small urban lake and let the wind carry the petals off as birds sang all around me. To life.
