Lifelong Companions-PG13

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When Vader was a wee pup I bought him a stuffed dog to snuggle with because my other pug at the time, Buffy, would not tolerate him cozing up to her. When Vader grew older and his hormones kicked in, this big, fluffy dog turned from mere plaything to sexual object and earned her name -- "Humpie" Doggie. Vader, always a gentleman, would court her by licking her, leaving her snacks, cuddling her and then of course, having his way with her. Buffy liked it because she would later come by and eat the snacks Vader left for Humpie. Years later, after Buffy died, I found a pile of bones under Humpie's head and began to sneak them away so Vader wouldn't be disappointed. I really believe he thought she was for real.

When Vader grew old and lost the use of his legs, his yellow girlfriend became his pillow -- a means to prop him up as he fell over on his side. You could still find him licking her and cleaning her. Yesterday, when I took him to the vet for the last time, Humpie came with him and he passed away with his head on her neck. The vet informed me that if I wanted Humpie Doggie could be cremated with Vader and that's exactly what I did. After all, they were lifelong companions.

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Waltham's Zag Vaderman

Vader died today, but now he runs in fields of grass and swims in pools of water like he did when he was small. He cavorts with playmates like a wild puppy, stopping to catch his breath by a leafy green tree where his companion, a yellow stuffed dog sits. And, though he likes to lick her and toss her around he has no memory of the hours he spent in his old age propped up against her unable to move. Instead, he knows what it feels like to have four legs beneath him and to dash among the dandelions. He does pause briefly, however, when I call his name. He remembers nothing now of pain or sadness, but my voice he knows. He always comes when I call and though I seem distant now, he stops and listens then resumes running -- young again.

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Living

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I watch my new friend prick the delicate fabric of the quilt square she inherited from her mother. I look at her gentle face as she tells us about her recent stroke, how she lay in bed unable to reach her nightstand or fluff her own pillow. Yet, how in that moment, she realized the value of life, what it would mean if she were to get better.

My other friend chimes in, "That's what marvels me," she admits. "I don't think I ever realized how much we hold onto life until I heard Simon bray." She is referring to the donkey that came to live on her farm from an abusive situation. "It was shortly after he came and he was not in good shape, but I heard him bray...." Her voice drops off, but the implication hangs there -- he was calling out to life and he indeed lived, growing healthy and strong. She turns to the first friend and speaks again, reiterating, "It amazes me that even in these horrible circumstances we cling to life."
My other friend stares back at her and deadpans of her night in the hospital, "Well, it was quite a night."

Life and death both have their challenges. My 14-year-old pug, Vader, has lost the use of his legs -- front and back -- he is incontinent, developing bedsores and has an eye that could rupture. His mind, however, is alert. He hides his bone under his chin and keeps my other pug, Alfie, at bay with just a look.  He watches my nieces and nephews and squawks should I forget and make my breakfast before his. Still, I think his time may have come and I bray, calling out to life.

I bathe his urine-stained body and think about this. Suddenly, I look down and see him. His back legs are splayed, tummy exposed, front legs crossed, letting out a yawn. He is not worried about life and death. He is living.

Ch...ch..changes

After years of trying and talking about it, I am in the process of actually working with someone to get a web site up and running. This site will also feature a new blog, one where I actually write in addition to putting up pictures. I have so many new and creative opportunities on the horizon. I'm getting ready to start a writing workshop with Jon Katz -- a chance for me to actually concentrate on some of my own stories outside my freelance work and teaching -- and will be having my photographic collages on exhibit at his wife Maria's Pig Barn Gallery. I will also be attending a workshop on creativity this next month. With so many exciting things ahead I thought I'd start blogging more on my current blog (www.pugsandpics.com) until the new web site and blog is up and running. I hope you join me on my exciting adventure and thank you to all my friends, family, coworkers and mentors who have been so supportive of my journey thus far.

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Our Tribe

Each semester I ask my memoir students to answer the question "Who is my tribe?" It just so happens that this is their assignment for this week as well. Yesterday, our family gathered for our Memorial Day celebration. It's often amazing to see just how big our tribe has grown. I took this photo of all my nieces and nephews, complete with my pug Alfie, to answer this question. Here, is my tribe. By the way, they indeed acted accordingly yesterday, running around like a tribe of wild banshees, but oh, it was fun!

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