Current Music: Into the West
Jimbo, It's been two weeks now since I've seen you. I miss you Pups. I still can't believe you're really not just in the other room, sitting on your rug like always, waiting for me to take you out. I love you so much. I am so sorry that things happened this way...that I didn't do any one of 10 million things that maybe, just maybe, might've made things turn out different. I'm so sorry for the times I took you for granted. I'm sorry for the mornings I was running late and couldn't take you for a walk. I'm sorry for the times I cut a walk short and promised to make it up to you. I'm sorry that I didn't spend every second I was home sitting with you and letting you know how much you meant to me. I didn't realize then how much of everything I loved here was because you were there with me. This neighborhood was only cool and interesting because I got to explore it with you. These woods were only peaceful and lovely because you were there with me. And this house was only a home when you joined us in it. You brought so much joy into Jason's and my life. I hope you knew all this. I hope that we managed to return at least some fraction of that joy and love to you, and that you get to keep that love with you as you passed to a place we can't follow yet.
I've decided I'm going preserve this journal as it is, Puppy. I can't bear the thought of stripping away all the marks here that are in some way related to you. And I can't continue to use this identity as if nothing had happened. I'm grateful to you both for being my model, and I want to be able to come back and remember this time.
I'm posting this message because I don't know what else to do with it. Maybe someone on my friends list has a ghost over their shoulder who can carry it to you. But this is also going to be my trove for as many memories of you as I can save. Jason and I are very fortunate and very grateful to have lots of friends that have comforted us during the last couple of weeks. But here, if anyone wants to add comments, I hope they will stay their sympathy and just contribute their memories. Here are a few of them to start.
Jimbo, I'm always going to remember the day we met. You were not a fan of the kennel, and when they opened the door you raced past us all towards the front. When we finally got outside we saw what your rush was: you wouldn't go in the kennel and you couldn't hold it anymore. We thought you were pretty cool, but we weren't sure how to make such an important judgment on such short notice. We let them take you back in, and as we got in the car, we decided to take the chance and go with our instincts. I don't think I could ever get more for $5 than I did on that day.
And you proved yourself a good choice almost instantly. On the ride home from Rhode Island, you were thrilled to be in the car. You stuck your head out the window even though it was raining. We stopped at Newbury Comics (one of many times) and you loved meeting everyone.
Home the first time, you seemed to know that we'd adopted you. You sniffed all over and couldn't contain your enthusiasm. You ran around the room like Shiba 500, for the first of many times. You got into your crazy playful mood, crouching and stopping still only to pivot around 360 degrees in an instant. We were a little worried you'd already lost it, but it made us laugh at how happy you seemed.
You showed no interest in getting on the furniture. When we bought you a dog bed, you ignored it. Also the blanket we bought instead. After several months, when you were secure in your spot, we put a rug down and were happily surprised that you seemed to like it.
But at the time, you were more interested in watching Dog TV from our balcony. All the cars and the passers-by and the visitors to the trailhead enthralled you. We were happy that you were so easily amused.
I have lots of memories of little things you did all the times, like your excitement when one of us came home, your excitement getting ready to go out, how you would jump up to greet a person you liked, your great monster dog trick, or how thrilled you were when you met one of us somewhere you weren't expecting.
I remember how great a hiking dog you were, leading us along the trails even when the path wasn't obvious.
There was the fun game of drying you off after being out in the rain, when you'd sometimes decide you were a bull that had to charge the towel.
We had our shopping trips, when you waited in the car always watching for me to emerge from the store.
You liked visiting the Bramhalls, who were so good to watch you, and how you learned that with us you actually had a pretty big family who all loved you. Even though you had to be reintroduced to my grandfather so many times.
And you had lots of friends that loved you, too. You loved getting spoiled by Larry with lamb dinners and all-natural dog treats, though you declined his carrots by picking them out into a pile on the floor.
You even warmed up to Dixie & Daisy. I was very happy about that, because it made it a lot easier to have you accompany me to visit the valley.
I think you liked it too. You got to run around in the pool area or hang out outside. Sometimes you even played with Daisy. You seemed to like hanging out by the tree in the backyard looking very content, but were still psyched when people came over to see you there.
I remember how you inexplicably looked smaller sometimes, like you'd been shrunk. I still can't figure that out.
Your hemorrhoids. Not pleasant, but I won't forget that.
You could be quite a 'fraidy cat: you were freaked out by orange cones, bathrooms & laundry rooms, my parents' basement stairs, the vacuum even when it was off. Sometimes I think you were just pretending for our amusement.
Sometimes you were a bad dog: there was some nipping... of other dogs, Minnie, me, Jason; the time we drove too long and you pooped in the car; the times you nearly gave me heart attack when you got away from me and ran around for a while before returning....jumping down into the frozen pool, which luckily didn't break.
But you knew how to get back in our good graces by being cute. We never failed to crumble when you came and sat by us, leaning if possible.
Or came over and wanted to cuddle by burying your head in my chest.
Usually you stayed out of the bedrooms, but you'd come in when we invited you. A couple of times you stayed in our room. Once you even jumped up to look out the window. I always wondered if you did that when we weren't home.
It was always cute when you sat with your paws crossed like a true dog of leisure and stretched every time you got up.
If you were lying down and we referred to you, first you'd look, then the tail would start to wag, and if you were sure we were talking about you, you just had to get up and come over, no matter how comfortable you were.
I loved how you'd run up the stairs and look back down through the railing at me.
I thought it was funny how you'd be running and would eat snow at the same time.
Sometimes it was frustrating, but actually I was glad to have a dog that always wanted to go a new way and explore things...the woods, the neighborhood, whatever.
You liked playing keep away with your cheweez or dentabones. Lots of times you only wanted it when we tried to get it from you.
You sat and waited patiently for dinner. You never bugged us about it, which resulted in some late meals. But when it was finally coming, you tapdanced on the dining room floor to show us you were glad. You were also the loudest and messiest water drinker I ever saw.
You loved that dog ice cream we got. I'm really sorry we didn't get more for you. You were so funny licking it out of the hoodsie cup.
There was that time I'm pretty sure you nicked that bird. The other birds were not happy.
You seemed a little freaked out at the couple of parties we had, but you still behaved. I hope you didn't get too upset.
I'm going to remember how you finally stepped on a piece of furniture...the flip out couch.
I never saw it, but Jason told me you once jumped over the bed to avoid the vacuum. I can imagine it.
Your sad look and tail slowly stopping wagging when you saw you weren't invited to come when we had to go out...
The way you walked with your legs in sync, the front and rear on each side nearly hitting each other; a perfect trot.
When you skipped, just jumping off with the back legs, like when you went down the stairs to go out.
How you leapt over things like snowbanks and that streambed in the woods (and the bed, as I imagine).
The way you'd get to the bottom of the stairs and run around in a little circle till I opened the door.
The complications we went through picking out your name. I think we picked a good one, even though it took a lot of explaining that Yojimbo is the name of an Akira Kurosawa samurai film.
I was always amused, though, how we could summon up nicknames for you, even though we are terrible nickname people. Not that they were incredibly clever, just that we didn't get tired of varying your name when we usually stick rigidly to one name with people. Jimbo, Jimbos, Dimbo, Dog, Pups, Puppy, Puppy Dog, Yojimbo-san, Mr. Jimbo....do people talk funny to animals and babies because proper english language just can't do justice to that mushy feeling that wells up inside?
I hope you're at peace now puppy. Sleep tight good boy.
Lay down
Your sweet & weary head
Night is falling
You have come to journey's end
Sleep now
Dream-of the ones who came before
They are calling
From across a distant shore
Why do you weep?
What are these tears upon your face?
Soon you will see
All of your fears will pass away
Safe in my arms
You're only sleeping
What can you see
On the horizon?
Why do the white gulls call?
Across the sea
A pale moon rises
The ships have come
To carry you home
And all will turn to silver glass
A light on the water
All souls pass
Hope fades
Into the world of night
Through shadows falling
Out of memory and time
Don't say
We have come now to the end
White shores are calling
You and I will meet again
And you'll be here in my arms
Just sleeping
What can you see
On the horizon?
Why do the white gulls call?
Across the sea
A pale moon rises
The ships have come
To carry you home
And all will turn to silver glass
A light on the water
Grey ships pass
Into the West |
![[info]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small}
rmadlo119's journal
