Good Dogg

Cody

Barbie called me Saturday- and I didn't hear the phone, was sleeping the fever off (have an ear/throat thing going, mostly gone today) and manz was out talking to Chicken man..... anyway, no clue that the phone had rang until Sunday night.  But I did see her facebook post about Cody- he passed last Tuesday- a good dogg gone to rest. I remember him when Michael brought him over- he knew a few tricks, full of energy.  He loved reflections and playing 'flashlight' with Mother when she visited~ good dogg. Bless him with bones and soft beds, long walks and interesting things to sniff, balls to chase forever.

Our doggs are more than just dogs- which is why I spell it with two 'g's - it is a way of separating them from the ordinary to the personal, the members of our family.  My first dogg was Heidi, the curly odd poodle/dachshund  mix that won my father's heart, could do any trick ever (Mother is amazing at training doggs- even the wildest noodleheads learn from her), was the constant companion as I turned from a child to a flown-the-nestling.  Ginger, my parents other dogg that lived with me for awhile.  Sister Sue's Jenny, and Brandy, and the ever loveable Mr. Hank and graceful Daisy.  Barbies Barney the dachshund (who I never met, but whose story she tells of his sweet, sad, short life I know), Sadie, Princess, Cody and table-climbing Cash.  Bill's Valentine.  The doggs of Sue's kids- Axel, Remmington, Gus, Shadow, Emma and those I haven't met yet.  Aunt Glady's huge slobbery beloved Chumley.  Melissa's Mom's dogs, Jake and Josie, and Melissa's pack- Egypt, Bella (our Bear's sister), Roscoe.  Coco and Lacy out at the farm. And my doggs~ Mother Time, Marylin, Hoople, Fitzy, Ruffian (my much loved coydog), Elvis, Jezebelle, Max and Bear.  Others.

I wonder where doggs go when they die? I believe that they have souls- I believe actually that most everything has a soul, or at the very least, a spirit.  Even objects have their own spirits and stories- it is rare to find something that is truly without, though most people move through the world I think in a blindness to that.  Or maybe I'm just crazy (but I know better in my heart.  I'm not crazy, I'm awake).  Everything is for a reason and a purpose, and when things 'die' they do not end, they just change, pass on, become something else.  Something not so entirely different, yet not the same at all.  Transfiguration of the spirit.  Eternal life.

I don't worry.  Yes, I mourn and grieve like any one, but I don't worry about heaven or hell or salvation.  I am curious about what happens afterwards, and I don't know what it will be, but I do think about it every now and again, and wonder.  Do we create our own 'what comes next'?  Or is it what the collective thinks- a place of judgement and punishment, reward, forgetting, forgiveness, endless light?  Or an eternal cycle spinning in the dark, generating sparks of flame that shine then vanish?  I don't know- all of this and more probably- and basically, that is then, this is now, and *this* is where I need to be.  For better or worse, life takes care of itself and I'm sure the afterlife will as well- but in my mind, I like to imagine pleasant things.   Like when I dream of those gone- why, just last night Daddy was working on the lilies that grew by the back deck at the house on Minno Drive, talking about dinner, and I was telling Mother not to worry, that I would take (something?) down to Granny Wrye in the pigeon coop (her apartment). While I'm sure Daddy and Granny Wrye have moved on to better things, their stories continue for me in the heavens I create for them.  Does that make sense at all?  I don't know- but it is a comfort and a pleasure to my heart, these greenevers of the soul.