July 25, 2023

I guess as summer winds down I spiral into memories of people and creatures lost. But it’s a joyful remembering. Eight years ago, Dr. Doctor had to say good bye to his very good ranch dog. I loved Bea as much as I did my family dog and a little more than I adore Tex. This is from a 2015 blog post I wrote just after she left us.

Bea,

Thank you for welcoming me to your home and heart. I’m going to miss your quiet enthusiasm when I arrive on Friday evenings and I’ll never forget how you just walked up to me that first day, you gave me a wag and showed me the way. I knew you wouldn’t be around much longer, you were already older for a Pyrenees but this isn’t how I wanted things to end with a trip to the vet. I wanted you to just not come home one evening and we would go out and look for you, finding you by the windmill like you had just decided it was time for a rest.

Dr. Doctor summed it up so beautifully as he always does big things or big feelings.

“She really knew how to be a dog.”

“And she really only had one bad day. Maybe two if you count the day she had surgery.”

What more could you give a creature or human you love? She must have been a remarkable human in her past life to earn a bucolic and simple existence. Heaven for Bea must look much like her life on Earth did. Only she is a much better hunter and always catches the rabbits and no one admonishes her for chasing cows.

That Indian Summer and autumn I swear I caught glimpses of the sweet old gir dashing through the dun colored grass. Early mornings, I swore I could hear her bark far in the distance. Like a hello from Heaven. What a gift that just now there is another dog who smells of sunshine, grass, and wind.