Letting Go

It has been a year since the human set me free.

I've watched her since that moment and felt her hurting. She's struggled to let me go. Her head knows it but her heart and soul, the parts of her that I know best, well, they've been hanging onto me for dear life. 

People keep telling her I'm with her, that she will feel me. 

They're right, I'm with her always. 

But she won't feel me until she's ready to let me go. 

So I stay. I patiently wait.

I send signs she doesn't see yet. 

As the anniversary approached, she cried more. She planned how she would spend the day. She ran through memories like movies in her mind, from the day we met to the moment I drew my final breath in her arms. 

I was there.

She didn't feel me. 

Until the night of January 15th. 

As she laid on her mat after a yoga class taught by Rachel, a beautiful soul who always makes my human feel safe with whatever comes up in her practice, her heart finally felt safe to push through the pain and open just a little bit more. Enough to let me go. Enough for me to finally come in. 

And so I moved into every part of her, filled up her heart and soul and spoke to her. This time, she heard me as she lay there. She didn't cry. She felt peace. 

I told her I am happy. 

I told her that I love her. 

I told her I am with her. 

I told her my legacy to her was to open her heart to pure love, knowing for certain that it would eventually hurt. To love another soul more than herself. To make her a better human being.

I told her to feel joy that I lived. Because I am not gone. 

The next day, I sent her signs that she could see now.

A German shepherd puppy on her walk at Bronte.

An old grey muzzled lab too, one who walked like I did in my last months.

A song from our first day together as she pulled into the park, and the old song "Stormy" on her radio as she drove away from the park. 

As she walked the last few steps we took together on our way to the vet a year before, I was with her again, as I always am, thanking her and loving her.

And she felt me. We are together in spirit now until I greet her again. 

Farewell

On January 16, 2015, my soul moved on to its next journey.

What an adventure I had as a dog. I chose my human when I was 4 weeks old, and though there were times she cuddled me too much, I have no regrets. Our lives together were awesome. I got to totally BE a dog. And I knew I was loved.

I swam in clear, cold lakes, rivers, creeks and puddles. I rolled on rotting salmon and ate all sorts of delicious things like steak, mice, bunny and goose poop and so much more. I cleaned human's plates and performed dishwasher pre-wash duties with pride. 

Countless pairs of underwear, pyjama bottoms and pants were expertly de-crotched by me. 

I fell in love. Oh, how handsome my boyfriends were. Mazzy. Vimy. Riley. Riley #2. I had friends like Cosmos and Bear and so many more. 

I had the honour of coming home to my dog mom, Bristol, who thankfully chose to mother me instead of consuming me, which was apparently a genuine possibility.

I've been gang humped at the dog park, had my nails painted hot pink, ridden in RCMP vans and kiss-bombed the big ass dude driving it with impunity. I've scared the crap out of the First Cat of Canada and countless lesser cats. I've provided my human will full deer legs and rabbits for dinner even though, for some absurd reason, she doesn't eat delicious meat. I've barked at everything and anything, chased skateboarders, roamed the grounds of Rideau Hall after busting loose from my dog walker, and before being brought home by complete strangers thanks to the handy ID on my tag. 

How many miles did I hike in my life? Far too many to count. I sniffed and rolled in grass and experienced it all in full. 

I've seen sunrises and sunsets. Rolled and frolicked in fresh, thick snow. Known the joy of chomping on spring grass and then enjoying the sheer humiliation of my human when she pulled it out of my ass. 

I've loved. I've felt pure joy. I've mourned and known sadness. 

It has been an incredible life. 

And though I don't want to leave her, the time has come for me to say goodbye to the human I have loved all my life. My body was tired. My back legs weren't working, eyes were cloudy and failing. And though my human didn't care at all, I did not particularly enjoy losing control of my...ahem...bodily functions. I still loved eating, and licking her face, and sniffing the air. But my world had become more frightening than joyful to me. My human's life was in order and ready to support her through losing me. So, I let go and made her help me. (she always said I would end up forcing her to make that choice...for once, the dork was right...heh!!). 

If you read this, please tell her I am at peace. I am with Mazzy, Vimy, Riley, Cosmos, Bristol. I can run like the wind again and it feels so good. There is a ton of coyote poop to pee on here, and even more goose poop to eat. There are fields of long grass that we frolic like dolphins in once again. And sometimes just sit in it, like my human and I did in our favourite spring field at Bronte, watching clouds and smelling the air. 

Tell her my love is eternal. That I will never truly leave her. That I chose her when I was four weeks old, and that love is forever. 

Tell her that she will heal. The tears will ease. And that I am beside her. 

That I am so glad it was her I chose to love - and that I felt her love every moment and feel it now.

Maybe lick her face once in awhile. Cause whenever I did that, she was happy and at peace.

Love,
Storm

Ribfest

My vegetarian human took me to Ribfest in Burlington this weekend.

I think I can actually thank my daddy for that. But, still, it was a first for me.

Somewhat frustrating, smelling all the ribby goodness and not being able to get any of it into my mouth. I almost managed to snag three delish rib bones before they were cruelly snatched away.

Got lots of attention. One man even guessed my breed and my age. That NEVER happens!!!

I did it

It was inevitable.

This morning, I stopped in the middle of crossing a busy intersection to poop.

When you're my age, and you gotta go, you just go.

No one rushed me. I did one of my patented traveling poops, spread the wealth around a little, just to make it harder for the human to pick it all up while traffic waited for us.

There was laughter.

I MADE IT TO 14!!

I'm doing pretty well for an old broad, too! Sure, I drop the occasional carpet turd without knowing it. Once in awhile I leak, and I am not so great on stairs anymore. My depth perception is kind of whacked. I could beat anyone in a fart contest and my days of even seeing, never mind chasing, prey are over.

But I love my food, get utter joy out of a good swim in the lake. I love my people, sniffing stuff, and napping. I have great physio peeps, a wonderful vet and humans that make my life as easy as possible.

So...onward!!

Curse you, winter

On Tuesday, I finally had the pleasure of actually pooping on grass for the first time since December.

It was magical.

Additionally, the bunny poop buffet area had thawed enough to enable unfettered and delicious snacking.

Then what happens?

A damned snowstorm.

In March.

The grass is one again buried, forcing me to poop on ice this morning.

The bunny poo buffet? Yeah, buried.

I made my point by leaving a small turd on the bedroom carpet this morning.

My patience is not infinite.

Underwater Treadmill Storm