Every night when I come back to our kennel from my online chores, I take Tonya into the cabin where Isa lives to get her supper. Also in the cabin are several of the older denizens of the kennel. The senior is old River View's Hurley, who will be fifteen years old in December. He's getting a bit tottery, but still hale and happy. Four of the "LL" litter, now almost twelve, are also inside. Plus Bosco, eleven this Christmas, and one younger female.
These old people all crowd around me the moment I enter the door. Old Hurley heaves himself to his feet, totters over and reaches up to tweak my nose gently or push his head into my lap. "Little Man" (Sepalleo) comes over, turns his back and sits, leaning against my leg. "Eegie" (Sepalleopard) and "Boo" (Sepalluna) join the party, Eegie maintaining his precious dignity, Boo wiggling and wagging her tail energetically. They break my heart, these old dogs. As they gradually grow frail and seem to become almost translucent, the beauty of their spirits shines through the failing bodies all the more strongly. Their simple, wholehearted affection just breaks me down. I don't want these beautiful people to grow old, get sick, and die or — worse — have to be put down.
I won't take an old dog to the veterinarian to die. I've seen the vets mess up too often. Our dogs are so perceptive, they would know as soon as we got in the truck what was happening. I won't cause them that kind of anxiety in their last hours. If an old dog is in pain or otherwise incapacitated, it's up to me. I owe them that. My old Winchester is the kindest way out for them; it's just a short walk down to the little bit of spruce bush that is our gateway to the Rainbow Bridge. I can carry them in my arms if necessary. I bed them down comfortably under the trees and sit there talking to them and stroking them for awhile. They know, I'm sure. But this way, there's no anxiety, for they trust me. When they're settled, napping or watching a bird, I do my job. It's instantaneous and always easy on the dog. Just hard on me, that's all.
But for now, every evening I squat down and bury my face in the ruffs of my beautiful old friends. There is nothing to compare with old dogs. They are a unique experience. Evil, pox and bane be upon those mushers who sell, put down or give away their faithful leaders and team dogs when they start to slow down a little with age. A sleddog who has faithfully served his driver deserves an honoured retirement, preferably in the house with the people he loves. A year or two ago I saw where someone was trying to sell a twelve year old Seppala. People like that deserve to die with no home, no funds and no friends — and to be reincarnated as swine.
Posted by jjeffrey at September 23, 2003 10:10 PMLIVING LOVE...
If you ever love an animal, there are three days in your life you will always remember....
The first is a day, Blessed with happiness, when you bring home your young new friend. You may have spent weeks deciding on a breed. You may have asked numerous opinions of many vets, or done long research in finding a breeder. Or, perhaps in a fleeting moment, you may have just chosen that silly looking mutt in a shelter... simple because something in its eyes reached your heart. But when you bring that chosen pet home, and watch it explore, and claim its special place in your hall or front room... and when you feel it brush against you for the first time... it instills a feeling of pure love you will carry with you through the many years to come.
The second day will occur eight or nine or ten years later. It will be a day like any other. Routine and unexceptional. But, for a surprising instant, you will look at your longtime friend and see age where you once saw youth. You will see slow deliberate steps where you once saw energy. And you will see sleep when you once saw activity. So you will begin to adjust your friend's diet... and you may add a pill or two to her food. And you may feel a growing fear deep within yourself, which bodes of a coming emptiness. And you will feel this uneasy feeling, on and off, until the third day finally arrives.
And on this day... if your friend and God have not decided for you, then you will be faced with making a decision of your own... on behalf of your lifelong friend, and with the guidance of your own deepest Spirit. But whichever way your friend eventually leaves you... you will feel as long as a single star in the dark night. If you are wise, you will let the tears flow as freely and as often as they must. And if you are typical, you will find that not many in your circle of family or friends will be able to understand your grief, or comfort you.
But if you are true to the love of the pet you cherished through the many joy filled years, you may find that a soul a bit smaller in size than your own seems to walk with you, at times, during the lonely days to come. And at moments when you least expect anything out of the ordinary to happen, you may feel something brush against your leg... very very lightly. And looking down at the place where your dear, perhaps dearest, friend used to lay... you will remember those three significant days. The memory will most likely to be painful, and leave an ache in your heart. As time passes the ache will come and go as if it has a life of its own. You will both reject it and embrace it, and it may confuse you. If you reject it, it will depress you. If you embrace it, it will deepen you. Either way, it will still be an ache.
But there will be, I assure you, a fourth day when... along with the memory of your pet... and piercing through the heaviness in your heart... there will come a realization that belongs only to you. It will be as unique and strong as our relationship with each animal we have loved, and lost. This realization takes the form of a Living Love... like the heavenly scent of a rose that remains after the petals have wilted, this Love will remain and grow... and be there for us to remember. It is a Love we have earned. It is the legacy our pets leave us when they go. And it is a gift we may keep with us forever. It is a Love which is ours alone. And until we ourselves leave, perhaps to join our Beloved Pets... it is a Love we will always possess.
~Author unknown~
I thought you might like this Mr. Bragg. I have no words other than that I understand and share your pain. Just remember... "it is far better to have loved and lost... than to have never loved at all". Just think of the wonderful life you have given all of these dogs... the sheer joy of running flat out in the pure wilderness... not many dogs get to do that in their lifetimes. The fact that you have kept the Seppala line going all these years and the line has not become extinct is commendable... I am sure that Leonhard Seppala is very proud and thankful for you. I will leave you with one more of my favorite quotes... "until you been loved by an animal... a part of your soul has not been awakened".
Lee Ann