Duncan
September, 1997 was when we made the decision to find an Australian Shepherd puppy. I’ve always admired the herding breeds, did my research and wanted a tri-color female. I found a lovely little one. Before leaving, I noticed three blue merle puppies (the color I never wanted!) sitting in their kennel. I stood looking at one in particular, and he quietly looked back, sticking his little paw out of the kennel, as if trying to reach out to us. I walked over and spoke to this beautiful green-eyed boy. That was it! “Duncan” chose us and was on his way to become a member of our family.
Duncan enjoyed camping from the beginning. Here he is in front of our tent,
still a baby, yet taking his duties very seriously!
Duncan was a camp dog extraordinaire and I can't say enough good things about him. He'd been a wonderful friend and companion. I don't think there has ever been another being who made it so clear about how happy he was to be in my company. I love camping out in our woods and so did he. His self-appointed job was campsite guardian and he so enjoyed chasing things real or imaginary out of our camp area and allowed me to feel safe when camping out alone.
In March, 2003, Duncan developed a sporadic limp and in early April he was diagnosed with osteosarcoma....bone cancer of his right front leg. This news was devastating and was an indicator that this beautiful, loving dog was preparing to leave us. The following three months were the saddest of my life. Although Duncan was doing his best and enjoying life to the fullest, my heart was breaking and I look back and wish I could have been stronger for him, but it was so hard. He let me know that it was time to make the Bridge journey. My valiant dog was gone. I buried his ashes near our campsite and placed a very pretty large, blue rock over them. He'd have liked the location that I chose.
Today,
September 7, '03 I decide to take a walk into the woods with our other three
dogs. Duncan has been gone almost two months. I am acutely aware of his absence,
but especially when I go on woodswalks. It's almost 8:00 in the evening, but I
plan on a short walk, just to give the dogs a break from their routine and allow
them to find a few fallen apples from the wild apple trees that punctuate the
woods. As we start on the trail, I hear a strange sound, but thinking it was a
neighbor up the road calling out for some reason, I ignore it and continue. I've
almost reached the campsite and I hear the sound again. This time I recognize
it. It is a Barred owl and I sit at the picnic table, thrilled for the
opportunity to hear it close by. I have a serious interest in owls and an
appreciation for all raptors. I hear it for the third time and feel that my day
finishes with a blessing. It is getting dark quickly, but I decide to take the
dogs just a short distance up the trail to a rivulet where I often see animal
tracks and on the way I pass Duncan's blue stone and think how wonderful it
would be if he could be with us. I still find it painful trying to cope with not
having him with me. On the return walk, we again pass Duncan's stone and
once more I look. Although it is even darker now, I notice something next
to it. Fumbling for my glasses, I approach nearer to the stone and lean over it
and am at once overcome with calm and with something else that is inexplicable.
There, lying on the ground and almost touching upon the blue stone, is a
feather. It had not been there five minutes earlier. I knew it was
there by design and was a most wonderful and unique gift of comfort. I treasured
the moment and wept. I will miss my wonderful, dear companion, Duncan, but he is
in my heart always.
It was quite dark by now and time to move on. Time for each of us to go home.
Gail Clark
Fredonia, NY
A Living Love
If you ever love an
animal, there are three days in your life you will always remember....
The first is a day, blessed with happiness, when you bring home your young new friend. You
may have spent weeks deciding on a breed. You may have asked numerous opinions of many
vets, or done long research in finding a breeder. Or, perhaps in a fleeting moment, you
may have just chosen that silly looking mutt in a shelter--simple because something in its
eyes reached your heart. But when you bring that chosen pet home, and watch it explore,
and claim its special place in your hall or front room--and when you feel it brush against
you for the first time--it instills a feeling of pure love you will carry with you through
the many years to come.
The second day will occur eight or nine or ten years later. It will be a day like any
other. Routine and unexceptional. But, for a surprising instant, you will look at your
longtime friend and see age where you once saw youth. You will see slow deliberate steps
where you once saw energy. And you will see sleep when you once saw activity. So you will
begin to adjust your friend's diet--and you may add a pill or two to her food. And you may
feel a growing fear deep within yourself, which bodes of a coming emptiness. And you will
feel this uneasy feeling, on and off, until the third day finally arrives.
And on this day--if your friend and God have not decided for you, then you will be faced
with making a decision of your own--on behalf of your lifelong friend, and with the
guidance of your own deepest Spirit. But whichever way your friend eventually leaves
you--you will feel as long as a single star in the dark night If you are wise, you will
let the tears flow as freely and as often as they must. And if you are typical, you will
find that not many in your circle of family or friends will be able to understand your
grief, or comfort you. But if you are true to the love of the pet you cherished through
the many joy-filled years, you may find that a soul--a bit smaller in size than your
own--seems to walk with you, at times, during the lonely days to come. And at moments when
you least expect anything out of the ordinary to happen, you may feel something brush
against your leg--very very lightly. And looking down at the place where your dear,
perhaps dearest, friend used to lay--you will remember those three significant days. The
memory will most likely to be painful, and leave an ache in your heart--As time passes the
ache will come and go as if it has a life of its own. You will both reject it and embrace
it, and it may confuse you. If you reject it, it will depress you. If you embrace it, it
will deepen you. Either way, it will still be an ache.
But there will be, I assure you, a fourth day when--along with the memory of your pet--and
piercing through the heaviness in your heart--there will come a realization that belongs
only to you. It will be as unique and strong as our relationship with each animal we have
loved, and lost. This realization takes the form of a Living Love--like the heavenly scent
of a rose that remains after the petals have wilted, this Love will remain and grow--and
be there for us to remember. It is a love we have earned. It is the legacy our pets leave
us when they go. And it is a gift we may keep with us as long as we live. It is a Love
which is ours alone. And until we ourselves leave, perhaps to join our Beloved Pets--it is
a Love we will always possess.
~~Martin Scot Kosins
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The wonderful header graphic at the top of our page was
created by Robyn Phillips of Skeldale House Treasures.
Thank you Robyn.
The wonderful walking pawprint graphics used throughout our site are by
They make me think of Angel Aussies leaving their footprints on our hearts.
Cyber-paws since
November 26, 1999
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