Transitions

I unpacked box after box looking for it. I forgot to grab his small wooden case off the bookshelf and I have spent the last several weeks agonizing over whether or not his ashes would arrive safely in their new home.  Finally, after a 2,000 mile commute and the unpacking of 280 boxes I have his urn in my hands.  Tears fill my eyes at an overwhelming rate as memories of my dear friend flood back to me.

Then a new reality strikes me. I will never again walk through a room he filled. I will never be able to retrace the steps of his favorite walk or visit his favorite park. I have been completely separated from any place he touched physically in this world. Now all I have is what he imprinted upon my heart, what he taught me through his example and a few behaviors which he left me conditioned with.

 I still jump anticipating his bark at the sound of fireworks and garbage trucks. Then I feel a little let down when I don’t hear his ferocious growl. Every time I experience the fireworks and then the letdown I begin to remember his fear of the kitchen timer and the cell phone that I had to replace because the alarm on it scared him so. He eventually outgrew his fear of the timer and cellphone but barked at the garbage truck until the day he died.  I laugh thinking of all the ways he could challenge an individual’s leadership but take great pride in knowing he seldom attempted those antics with me.

Yes, I still miss my friend but I am moving forward.  My pack has increased to three and a kitten.  I often say it has taken three of them to fill the void Dutch has left. That is a lie. I miss my friend and wish desperately he could join me in my new home.  I think how he would love the yard and the rabbits. I miss feeling his head on my foot at dinner and his gentle presence always near me.  To say that my three either individually or as a pack could replace my dear friend belittles the impact he had on my life.

 I spent a little over a decade with this guy. He helped me realize how passionate I am about dogs. He challenged my abilities as a behaviorist. He challenged my patience and forced me to practice what I preached.  This creature taught me through his example about loyalty and unconditional love.  The things I learned from him are forever cherished in my heart.

He helped me to understand that we are dynamic ever changing creatures. Our edges smooth over time. As we age we let go of the little things like the kitchen timers and the annoying cell phone alarm but continue to chase the fireworks and garbage trucks.  We make a point to leave an impression on others.  This impression is not contained by time or space and is certainly not sequestered in a little pine box.  We are designed to impact others beyond the physical space we occupy.

The impression Dutch left with me gave me the confidence to rescue. His influence was the premise for me to develop a multitude of behavior management skills. These skills are the reason why I can confidently handle a pack of three now.  Although there is no trail here that we have physically walked together he has paved the way for me to impact many lives.

 The small wooden box serves as a reminder of all that I have lost but the dogs surrounding my chair are proof of all that I have gained because of him. My heart quickly changes from being full of sadness to being filled with gratitude for all which his influence has allowed me to gain.  I run my fingers over the small wooden box which contains Dutch’s physical remains and a sense of peace finally replaces the agony I once felt.