Nara's Story Part 2

I loved that dog.  So much that I had her cremated and want her ashes cremated with mine.  There are countless reasons for that.  Mostly it's centered around the fact that she kept me from sinking into hopeless depression and alcoholism at a time when I was hell bent on going there.  Hard to do that when you are responsible for someone who loves you unconditionally.  Oh, it can be done.  Trust me.  I have first hand experience with that.  But Nara was the first living being for whom I was solely responsible and I loved her too much to leave her by committing completely to my passively suicidal ways.  She was my life line.  Without her, I don't know where my life ends up.  I certainly know it isn't here.  I suspect it is a little box in the ground somewhere.

She remained a shy and socially awkward dog.  I don't know if she just was that way or if my own personality rubbed off on her.  The whole dogs becoming like their masters thing.  She loved our kitty Rochester aka BooBear - most of the time.  He merely tolerated her at best and loved nothing more than torturing her.  She loved fetch, the water, playing in the sprinkler and snow.  Like most labs she was a walking stomach and when that was full was all heart.  She kept my feet warm and my heart from freezing.

In the fall off 2001, she became noticeably more frail.  Had difficulty standing, was not eating well, couldn't manage the 4 steps down some mornings.  Her hips had been destroyed by hip displaysia - a genetic malformation of the hip socket.  When I asked the vet, he said 'Not yet.'  When I asked 'When?' he replied 'You will know.'  But how would I know I wondered as I loaded her carefully back into my car?  She miraculously improved over the next couple months and I was content to have her stay.

In early November I got a phone call, THE phone call, the man's voice on the other end saying 'You have cancer' as if at the other end of a tunnel.  Making plans for surgery.  Arranging my life to fit this new thing, I consulted the vet because my baby would have to do three weeks in a kennel.  And even though we had the best kennel facility in the world and a caregiver there who loved her, I couldn't bear the thought of bringing her home and having to put her down.  Or worse, having it happen while I was incapacitated.  Better to do it now.  He reassured me that she would be fine.

There was a bit of trouble at the kennel and she bit a worker while I was in the hospital.  My family told me none of this as the time.  The kennel decided that it was the employee's fault and ended up firing him for not treating her properly.  A fact that makes me respect them even more.  That my dog mattered more than their employee.  That they could discern the truth for her when she couldn't speak for herself.

Anyway, I brought her home.  We both hobbled slowly into the house via the ramp my younger brother had built while I was recuperating.  Built it twice because the angle on the first was too sharp for the dog to navigate.  So much kindness.  I broke the do not lift more than 5 pounds rule and helped her onto the bed where we two old dogs napped peacefully glad to be home and with each other.

Fast forward six months.  It's a beautiful morning in June and my first thought on waking is how amazing it is to be alive and how great I feel - back to my old self.  As if she had been waiting for that exact moment, Nara started to weaken again.  Her job done.  My last and hardest job with her just beginning.  In two weeks it would be over and I would return to my empty house with her leash and a broken heart.

Boxes to pack and donate.  Moments in my sleep where I could still feel her at the foot of the bed.  Only to wake and realize it was a lie, a flesh memory.  I could hardly bear that summer.  I travelled a lot.  Spent as little time as I could there.  Shortly after Christmas I would move out.

Fast forward four years.  I am at a workshop called "Intro to Shamanic Journey."  The facilitator is helping us create and travel to our power spots.  No sooner do my feet hit the ground in my power spot in non-ordinary reality than a flying blur of black comes at me.  I start bawling uncontrollably and have to leave.  I do eventually go back in and continue.  It wasn't that I was scared by that black blur, but that I recognized it immediately as my baby Nara who had been waiting for me to make this particular journey.  Turns out she is and always has been right by my side.

I see more clearly the scope of it today.  She was sent to me by the ancestors to keep me from falling off the cliff.  She stayed even when she wanted to go to make sure I was OK.  She hung around against all odd that I would make it back to her.  She was unselfish and loving all the way to the end and beyond.  She is my hero.