Sparky...my friend...my farewell at last
When my twin sister and I were four years old, my parents adopted a miniature toy collie from a farmer wanting to get rid of him. A miniature toy collie is a collie breed on tiny, short legs, maybe bred with a beagle, but I'm not sure. Anyway, when we got him, he was already 2 or 3 years old and set in his ways, but my sister and I treated him like a newborn.
This dog followed us everywhere. He was our protector, our best friend. If my dad raised his voice at us, Sparky growled at him and my dad would quiet down. Sparky was...Sparky. My best friend, my protector, my mentor, my parent.
When my sister and I were 15, Sparky went on one of his million hunting trips, but this time was different. It had been 5 or 6 days since we had seen him, which was unusual and I had a sick, dark feeling in the very pit of my stomach that I refused to acknowledge.
My father found him a few days later, dead. I believe he had been shot, but I don't remember the details, and my father didn't want to give us the details. Though I had already been a child who went through depression, and a teenager who was forever plagued with chronic depression, this was the worst thing that could ever happen to me. Not my Sparky.
Years later, I still carry a sadness about his departure and I have decided to address it...
I'm 42 years old now, Sparky, but I carry you inside of me like no one else and I have still been unable to express my gratitude to you. It might be silly as an adult to wipe the streaming tears from my face when I think of you, because you were a dog, but I cannot begin to describe to people who didn't know you, how human you were and how important, so, so very important you were in keeping me sane and alive...I miss you Sparky...I've written these words so quickly so I wouldn't censor or edit them, so I apologize if they are garbled:
I remember you hunting like a warrior...you were an old soul, and free, and though free spirits don't always have to leave, you did. I can't fault you for that. You were wise and knew it was your exit, stage left...i'm sure you thought of us and a smile curled around your lips as you slipped into the warm sleep of a content being who was ready to appear elsewhere, where needed. Thank you for licking my tears. I know you craved the salt and wanted to take away the hurt, and I craved the care. Thank you for your protection and for allowing me to experience the cliched "unconditional love." You were my rock, and when you left, I sank, as though I were tied to you like a stone. Your memory allowed me to float, just enough above water to exist for over a year. I was numb, and sometimes I still am numb and I reach for you in my dreams, but oddly enough I never see you; I feel you though, and maybe that is more comfortable to me.
I've been afraid to think of you so often because I don't quite like tears and the lump your memory puts in my throat. It hurts. It is heavy and hard to swallow; so hard that is feels unbearable and I want to pretend you never existed so I don't re-live the pain. That goes away soon enough because I do want to remember you, always, and I do. Words cannot express how I've missed you the past several decades. It warms my heart now that I'm forcing myself to remember you, which includes the pain of losing you.
Your melancholy down-turned eyes were so brown and beautiful and in the most paradoxical fashion, held so much happiness. Yours was the most free spirit I've ever known and you have made me want to be strong and independent and love the way you did; your flight helps me fly today; your love and concern was so beyond you. Do you know this? Any of this? I think you do. I think you were my Bodhisattva, Sparky and I'm sorry I haven't pulled you out of my pocket in such a long time. You were (are) the most incredible being I've ever known and you did more to get me through my sad childhood and utterly lonely teenage years than any human being could have and for that I thank you and at this very moment, I'm combing the burs out of your beautiful carmel-colored coat and you are licking my tears and we are both ok.
--Fortuitous Observer
