Lord Byron wrote: "Near this spot are deposited the Remains of one who possessed Beauty without Vanity, Strength without Insolence, Courage without Ferocity, and All of the Virtues of Man without his Vices. This Praise, which would be unmeaning Flattery if inscribed over human Ashes, is but a just tribute to the memory of Boatswain, a Dog, who was born in Newfoundland May 1803 and died at Newstead Nov. 18th, 1808"
That sentiment I came to know all to well on a January day. With apologies to Byron, I would substitute the name Windwalker and the dates to Fayetteville, Tn Sept. 16, 1989 and Ft. Payne, AL Jan. 10, 2000.
In the end it was a beautiful Monday. Hardly a cloud in the sky, warm, sunny and in the 60's; not a January day that would call up memories of winter, although many memories flooded out anyway. They just weren't Winter memories, they were the memories of the decade long relationship we had with our Windwalker. We knew it was time, osteo-arthritis ruined her hips and her poor spine was starting to go; she was defenseless outdoors and unable to climb the steps to seek solace in our home. On Sunday, when she was unable to shelter herself from the rain we struggled into the van to wait out the thunderstorm together for she feared the lightening and noise so. On Monday our compassionate vet made a house call, her doctor from the beginning to the end, and, her friend. Oh, how we wept.
Winnie, as she came to be known, was a rare pet, I believe one of those once in a lifetime blessings that the Maker graces us with. A joy from the very start when she plopped upon Harriet's feet at the breeder's home, this beast became a presence in our household and our lives like no other. Winnie seemed so sentient, so understanding of human language that no amount of coded talk could slip by, she knew what we said. And, if there was transportation involved, she was going to ride. Ride. It was her very favorite thing, and it was the first and last thing we did together, our defining ritual. January 10th became her day to go, and go with grace she did. She's joined Brutus and Sheeba upon the hill near the shop, having taken that final ride in her van.
Now she is gone and, I, for one, am poorer for it. I suspect the grief will subside in time, yet there is a void in my heart that draws the water from my eyes in an instant today. That, too, shall pass in time. One thing is certain, I shall forever miss that big black nose snuffling at my ears early in the morning in search of breakfast.
AKC Thunderbear's Windwalker
9/16/89 ~ 1/10/2000