There is a lot to do, but I am unable to do any of it. Today, my dear friend, Allie, died. She was not young. She couldn’t move as she once had, couldn’t race the car up the driveway like a blur of shadow or jump onto Daddy’s lap without an assist. When the puppy pulled her tail, she could only turn and bark. When did that happen? How did it happen?
Last night, I looked at her and thought, She won’t be with us long. What made me think that? This morning when I let her out, she stayed on the porch and looked out over the pasture in a serious, sad way, and I watched her through the window and wondered what was going through her mind, even though I needed to get ready for work. What made us do that? Did she know somehow? Did I?
The dog has been humankind’s companion for thousands of years. We have evolved together. We claim to have “evolved” them, changing their shape and color, but I do not doubt they have affected us in powerful, profound ways that we cannot begin to name. If so, I think we have been the beneficiaries. Perhaps we are kinder, more faithful, more capable of love as a species because of them. Would we have killed each other long ago, but for the tiny tinkering with our psyches their presence in our lives has wrought? All those years ago, around the fire–dog with human–watching the night dark for us, hunting with us, laying heads on our knees, anxious eyes melting our anxieties?
It is said that language divides our species. That we have it and animals do not. Language is, at its base, the use of symbols. Yet once, when I was watching TV, Allie went to the kitchen and started knocking her dog dish about. That in itself is the use of symbol to communicate, but when I poured dog food in her bowl, she merely sat in front of it, not touching it, and stared at me. When I looked up from my seat on the couch, and she saw she had caught my eye, she looked down at her bowl, back up at me and then, over her shoulder. She repeated this sequence exactly until I (dumb human that I am) finally understood. There was leftover food on the warmer behind her, and she was trying to tell me that she would like some, thank you. She could have just jumped up and put her nose on the warmer tray, but that was not allowed, so she “told” me as clearly and politely as she could.
What are we missing in the silence of non-words that is not silence at all? When will we learn to see what we can’t hear?
They come into our lives, and then they leave us heartbroken…but better.
Miss Kitty, ten years we had you, perhaps you had us Called you Kitty because you were a stray; A 5 pound bird terminator and not to be our pet; Giving you a name would seal this deal, so kitty it was.
Months went by and we feeding you, hoping that would Curve your avian appetite, not to smart were we? One day you came inside, haughty, suspicious Miss Kitty, Then you let us pick you up; Oh crap, we love you.
You were gone for 4 days, weakened and no medicine. We grieved and wished we could have said goodbye; Then you miraculous creature you walked across the lawn And came up to your Mom, she cried, she thanked God
You stayed on your cushion perch in the shed window A favorite place of yours as much as you liked Resting On one our heads in bed, on the pillow, an alternate perch. You stayed one night our little tabby pal, then gone again.
You must have heard her prayers, she wanted to say goodbye. And you gave us both that one last gift, thank you for that. Miss Kitty, gone 4 days again, we know it is the end. We miss you Kitty is there another miracle left in you?
Geoff Langdon is one of Birmingham's many talented writers, and "Chief Creative Guy" at Advantage Marketing. Stop in and see him! 109 20th Street North, 205.328.3595 xt. 108. www.chiefcreativeguy.com.
