esrosedotblog

Memory is a strong force. It is impossible to resist it. On the other hand, it can be nice to embrace it. And then to let it go.

As we would expect, the memories of Booker are strong indeed. It has only been 36 hours since he left.

Dinner prep was fraught with memory last night. My sous chef partner was not there to taste the various foods on offer or to make his comment about them. Actually, everything was good except lettuce leaves and even those, if they were a little hefty, would be OK'd.

Last night I went on our regular walk to see our friend Donna who is Mom to his very best pals here, Buddy and Eddy.

While some people here know, the closest houses, word does not spread as rapidly as I would expect. But I didn't want that to be the way for some find out about our aire-boy's death.

So I went on the walk. The one we took every night after supper.

Along the way two New York guys who come here for winters called out to ask where Booker was so I stopped and talked to them at the pool and gave the condensed version with a Q and A. It was good prep for seeing Donna.

Who was outside! And no pups with her so we could talk and also not have all that memory inducing energy bounding around our feet.

She was shocked. It is shocking. So we went through it all and it was very nice. A purge. He loved her so and he would never, could never walk past their house and walkway without stopping and waiting to see if they were out back or somehow, as occasionally happened, get out the door and run wildly to see him.

We remembered how the would all be. Wild welcome followed with a little ass sniffing and then seeming indifference. But they didn't leave each others side.

It is hard to break up a two dog team and Booker never tried. He had no favorites. He loved him both.

On the way back I stopped to see if the two guys on the corner were in. No. They lost their dog Rusty some months ago and Booker still looked for Rusty when we went by.

This morning I realized that I depended on Booker to go see the morning, the dark morning at 3AM to see the stars and take in the air. Look at the dim mountain outline. See the beginning traces of dawn. Yes. This early. It is flat flat flat until the far off mountains and so we get to see the light before we ever could in a less dark place.

They were still there. The stars. The mountain. Booker's spirit. I laughed. He had to make his rounds every day. This is not a big space really but he had to check it all out for night time intruders I suppose. Sometimes there were some. Rabbits, other things. Coyotes? Probably not but he had to make sure. Sniff sniff pee pee. I learned patience from this. There was no hurrying him and meanwhile I could see the sights. Smell my smells. Look into my corners. The mental ones.

I looked up and as corny as it is I thought he was up there. He is not. I know that. But he is part of all of it now and I am glad that he left so peacefully and gently. Just as he arrived in our lives.

Labels: Booker, desert