Latter Day Sparks

Five Years

2011-09-02T22:06:00.002-04:00

Today marks five years since Sparkey left us for the next world and his Great Reward. His loyalty, unquestionable cuteness and intense way of tuning into the human world will always be remembered. Some dogs are very canine in their nature and behavior, but Sparkey---although quite the quintessential "dog's dog"---was also very much aware of the human dimension and seemed to be very sensitive to us on a variety of levels.

Occasionally, there are dogs whose physiognomy or personality (or both) remind us of Sparkey, and those moments conjure a sweet sadness that is not altogether disagreeable.

I sometimes wonder if Tina misses him, but she has also made plenty of dog friends since his passing. She even has a 2-year-old boyfriend named Barney who tries to play with Tina like Sparkey used to, but she is quick to put him in his place when he becomes too frisky.

Although his body is long gone and has since fed the verdant soil under the dogwood bush in our old yard in Massachusetts, Sparkey's spirit continues to shine, and for that continued connection and remembrance we are forever grateful.

Four Years

2010-09-02T01:14:00.000-04:00

Today marks four years since dear old Sparkey left his earthly body. On that fateful day, Mary, Rene and I gathered around him on our peaceful porch as the vet ended his suffering, and he licked us each on the face as a single tear rolled down his furry cheek. We buried him in the side yard of our house (the house we sold last year), and his old bones still rest in that hallowed place.

Sparkey was an amazing dog who was quite tuned into the human world. Whereas some dogs seem content in their canineness, Sparkey was one of those canines who seemed more human than most. He was especially tuned into human emotions, and there was no end to the empathy that he bestowed on members of his extended pack.

Sparkey and I were like soul mates, and there was a bond between us like I have never had with another animal (no offense, Tina!), and he was simply a special animal who came into our lives with a reservoir of love and devotion to give.

We miss our boy dearly, and we send our love to him, wherever he may be.

Rest in peace, Sparkey. One of these days Tina will join you at the Rainbow Bridge, and you both will have a joyous reunion. Til then, know that she is a happy old girl, slowly losing her eyesight and her hearing, but not her love of food and sleep and affection!

We love you, Bob. Thank you for the many years of devotion and love that you gave to our family, and know that we will never forget you!

Sparkey Comes to a Friend in a Dream

2008-08-27T10:14:00.006-04:00

Hi Keith and Mary,

Sparkey came to me in a dream last night. I was lost and afraid in a vast underground metro system of a strange city (probably Rome) and he came trotting up to me with that big smile and the white tip of his tail waving like a flag. He was in robust health. He helped me to find my way home to __________ by accompanying me as I searched for the bus platform that would get me there. Even though it was after hours and there was a locked door I found a nice man at a service desk who gave me the key that unlocked it. Sparkey and I went down the stairs to the bus stop. I was five minutes late but the bus hadn't come yet and I was going to be o.k. Then the cats woke me up. :-)

So as I was driving to work this morning I felt that I must let you and Mary
know that I had seen him. I think he wanted to say "hi" to you.

Love, Lucinda

Reminiscent of Sparkey

2007-12-22T05:29:00.000-05:00

This is a detail of a painting by Andrew Wyeth that reminds me so much of the good ol' days with Sparkey.

Morning (and Mourning) Has Broken

2007-12-02T05:39:00.000-05:00

This was just posted on my blog Digital Doorway and I share it here with you:

December 2nd is a sadly significant day for our family. It marks the anniversary of the murder (at the hands of the police) of Woody, our best family friend, whose untimely and unnecessarily voilent death occurred on this day in 2001, not three months after the events of 9/11. Interestingly, on the day Woody was killed, we were in New York City visiting my great-aunt Theresa, who at the time was around 112 years old. At her advanced age, straddling three centuries, she managed to outlive Woody by three months.

Our dear Woody---who was my wife's former partner, my son's best friend, mentor and honorary uncle, and my closest confidante---is as sorely missed now as he was five years ago. As much as I am able to embrace death as merely a continuation of life on another energetic and spiritual plane, his physical absence from our lives and home is still a palpable emptiness that has persisted over time.

The 2nd of each month also marks yet another month that our dear beloved dog Sparkey is gone. Sparkey and Woody were joined at the hip, twin flames who are inextricably linked in my mind due to their many adventures together over the years prior to Woody's death. When Woody would walk through our door, he would always immediately drop to the floor and allow the dogs to lick him ceaselessly, covering his red beard, mustache, eyes, and cheeks with their kisses of greeting. He would giggle as he lay there, the dogs intent on their right (and responsibility) to slick him down with joy and gusto. Once he was done greeting the dogs, we were next, and his entry was almost always a source of upliftment for all. Rene would have his "uncle" and playmate, I would have my best male friend, and Mary would have her old friend for whom she functioned as confidante, maternal figure, and spiritual sister.

When Sparkey died in September of 2006, we carried his golden and red body to his freshly dug grave in our yard. His coat always reminded me of Woody's hair and beard in its orange-red brilliance. It was like burying a part of Woody that day. Now a small dogwood (purchased and lovingly planted by our son Rene) sits on Sparkey's grave, some of Woody's and Tulane's ashes and Rene's baby teeth mixed with the rich soil of loss.

This first week in December carries with it a great deal of energy reflecting loss and grief. Yesterday, December 1st, used to be my parents' wedding anniversary up until their divorce in 1976 when I was 12 years old. Tomorrow, December 3rd, will mark three months since my step-father's death on September 3rd. Finally, the next day---December 4th---will mark what would have been my mother's and step-father's 30th wedding anniversary. Multiple blows of grief and loss billow through this week, and I/we just roll with the punches.

Still, I am grateful. These beings have fed me with their friendship and loyalty, adding immeasurable quality to my life's trajectory. My step-father (80), Sparkey (14), and Theresa (112) each died from natural causes---pancreatic cancer, renal failure, and old age, respectively---and they were all considerably old (especially Theresa!) based upon their respective species' life expectancy.

As for Woody, his demise was premature and tragic, although I give thanks in this moment for the wonderful times we shared together. Since we were both born in 1964, we had shared visions of our middle age and old age together, and had always looked forward to celebrating our 40th birthdays together. Sadly, we were robbed of that opportunity, and he left me to celebrate my birthdays without him---and there will doubtless be many, many more before I am ready to join him in the Great Beyond.

Woody's loss helps me to more fully appreciate and understand the loss experienced daily by people the world over who lose their loved ones to violence. Granted, I did not watch him be killed---a fate suffered by many individuals in Rwanda, Darfur, Burma, L.A., The Congo, and elsewhere---but he was still robbed from us, wrenched from our lives, and he is sorely missed.

So, here it is 5am and I am awake again. Morning has broken, mourning has broken, and we stand on this troubled planet looking up at the stars, wondering how our dearly departed are faring in their new manifestations, in whatever form that may take. Sparkey, Tulane, Theresa, Woody, and the many others: your days here are not forgotten, your departure still hurts, but we bless you and send you on your way. You are released, and when our blessed release comes, we will also know the sweet surrender of leaving this mortal coil, and entering those realms unknown to those of us still embodied.

May all beings be free. May all beings be happy. May all beings be free of suffering.

One Year: Of Endings and Beginnings

2007-09-02T09:32:00.000-04:00

Today, September 2nd, 2007, at approximately 1pm, Sparkey will be dead one year. His body still rests in the earth just beside our house, but his spirit body moves in an entirely different dimension.

Even as we celebrate his life and honor the 12-month anniversary of his passing, we sit vigil here in New Jersey, comforting my beloved step-father as he moves into the final stages of the dying process himself. The details of Sparkey's passage are fresh in my mind, and at this time (10am) on September 2nd of last year, we were enjoying what we knew would be our final morning and afternoon on earth with our wonderful canine companion. It was a day of final events: the last walk, the last meal, the final treats from the mail carrier, loving visits from the neighbors, Sparkey bestowing a final kiss to a small child's face (our neighbors' newborn). And then, before we could catch our breath, the vet came, we administered the medications, and he died, crying a final tear from his left eye as we kissed him and told him how loved and lovely he truly was.

Now, on this very day, we watch as my step-father's breathing becomes erratic, with 5-second periods of apnea (the absence of breathing), followed by a succession of rapid breaths once again. Hints of a minimal rattle in the throat make themselves known from time to time, yet he then breathes normally again. There will be no doctor visiting today to administer a dose of medicine to end his struggle, to assuage his suffering. In our culture, our dogs' and cats' suffering is painlessly ended when it is seen to be the most humane act we can perform; yet our suffering human loved ones, whose quality of life has long since diminished to less than a shadow of its former self, must struggle and gasp until the end. Morphine assists the process and depresses respiration, but Tulane will not experience the sudden and painless release that Sparkey was so blessed to receive.

Speaking of Sparkey and Tulane, Sparkey has now visited Tulane twice over the last few months, the most recent visit being only several days ago. When my mother and my wife and I were finishing a conversation around Tulane's bed early last week, Tulane said, "I didn't want to interrupt your conversation, but Sparkey was just here. He came through the window and stood by my bed, looking at me, smiling and panting, and wagging his tail furiously." (We all noted that there was a chocolate-chip cookie on the bedside table and Sparkey may have been eying it from across the veil.) Tulane seemed very pleased by this visit, as he did by a similar visit several months ago when Sparkey entered through the closed front door and curled around Tulane's legs under the kitchen table. With each visit, Tulane describes being able to smell Sparkey in the air, and to smell him on his hand after petting his head, long after our favorite golden dog had left the scene.

So, we await Tulane's death, midwifing him through the process, even as we recognize and celebrate Sparkey's anniversary. It is a significant day in our lives, and its importance informs our every waking (and sleeping) moment.

Happy un-Birthday Sparkey! May you run and play and rest in a peaceful and wonderful world, and may you welcome Tulane when he is ready to join you there. We love you, Sparkey!

In Loving Memory: Amos

2007-08-17T07:13:00.001-04:00

On August 15th (Keith's birthday), one of Sparkey's oldest friends passed from this life to the next. May he rest in peace, and may his loving family find comfort in a life well lived.

Amos lived just down the hill from us from 1994 to 1998 or so before we moved to new environs a few miles away. Back then, Sparkey being a rambling young man, we would usher him out the back door when he was ready, all alight with a young dog's excitement for adventure. "Go see Amos!" we would say "Stay to the side!" Off he would excitedly bound, over the hill and down the semi-rural street. From neighborhood reports, he would stop at various homes for treats along the way, but he would generally end up at Amos' house where a large yard bordering a lush New England forest would await their playful and curious selves.

A few weeks ago, Mary and Tina and I visited Amos and his loving human mother, paying our respects to one of Sparkey's beloved peers who was struggling with cancer in his front leg. Tina and Amos distractedly checked one another out as older dogs will, and subsequently sat in the grass, their hips inches apart (similarly to how she would often sit with Sparkey). We brought special treats for Amos (and some for his Mom, as well) and enjoyed some nice wet kisses from an old canine man who reminded us so much of our Sparkey. It was lovely to see them both, and we knew that this might very well be the last time we saw Amos in the flesh. With Sparkey's eleven-month anniversary imminent, the poignancy of that moment was not lost on either of us. Perhaps Tina and Amos communicated about this in their own way as well, making a silent deal to meet at The Rainbow Bridge and romp with Sparkey and their other friends when they have both left the Earth behind.

Speaking of The Rainbow Bridge, I now picture Amos' spirit body crossing that great divide, entering a heaven that only dogs can know. Waiting on the other side of that heavenly road is none other than Sparkey, glowing as his most healthy and strong self, ready to welcome Amos to a well-deserved hereafter.

"You served well, my friend," Sparkey says. "You served the family, helped to raise the children, attended to your Mistress, and now it's time to rest and play. Follow me!"

Off they bound across verdant hills, flowering trees waving in the warm breeze, as Amos wonders at his renewed, pain-free, and youthful body. Food and water aplenty are available for the asking, and friends old and new greet them at every turn. Amos and Sparkey, reunited once again.

Rest well, Amos. You were---and are---so loved and revered.

---Keith

Eleven Months

2007-08-02T00:01:00.000-04:00

The dogwood bush on Sparkey's grave, thoughtfully and lovingly purchased and planted by our son Rene, shines when the sunlight strikes its leaves. Sparkey's little corner of the Earth is like a little corner of Heaven, with dappled sunlight, towering white pines, rhododendrons, annuals and perennials, the small marsh beyond. Not fifteen feet from our porch, we overlook his gravesite daily, and often pause by this lovely corner of our humble piece of land.

Eleven months after his death, I regard his grave with a mixture of sadness, gratitude, and nostalgia. A part of me wonders how I can miss a dog---an animal---so much, so very deeply. I also find myself wondering if his body is completely decomposed now. Has it completely returned to the earth, or are there vestiges of his physical body still remaining? Would there be any ability to know that he was gently wrapped in a beautiful, soft, green and brown cloth, or has that too become soil once again? To some these thoughts are morbid. To me, they are a normal process of accepting his physical absence, the fact that we put his body in the earth while it was still warm, each of us taking turns climbing into the grave for a final goodbye.

One might ask how an animal could become such an integral part of one's soul. One might also ask how it could ever be otherwise.

---Keith

Missing Bob, Loving Tina

2007-08-01T21:22:00.000-04:00

Tomorrow is the 11 month anniversary of Sparkey's heart wrenching passing. It feels like yesterday yet the intense pain has eased greatly. But I do miss the old boy, his always rarin' to go spirit, his beautiful Woody pumpkin colors and big wet nose, but especially his expressive, innocent eyes, always waiting for the magic words, "walk outside?".

And in Tina's long summer days alone, I think she misses him even more than we do, but she is well adjusted and spoiled with so much love and affection (and we keep high quality treats comin as her favorite word is "treat?"')

Memories of Sparkey will be with me for the rest of my life, images sketched permanently into the recesses of my heart. He will always be our boy.

---Mary

10 Months' Time

2007-07-02T13:12:00.000-04:00

Today is Sparkey's 10-month anniversary of leaving the physical world, and it is our 18th wedding anniversary. Sparkey graced our relationship with his presence for more than a dozen years, and he was---and is---a big part of who and what our little family is and will be.

Happy Anniversary to us all, and much love to our greatly missed boy.

Gestation

2007-06-02T16:53:00.000-04:00

Nine months have passed. A gestation period for us all. Sparkey's body has been in the ground for three seasons and is entering its fourth, returning from whence it came. As for Sparkey's spirit and soul, they are in places of which we can only dream.

The other day, Mary and I were recalling a very memorable 40th birthday party which a friend of ours had in Vermont back when Sparkey was a robust ten-year-old. No dogs were allowed in the house, but this group of Vermont country homes were situated such that lovely rolling hills and a pond separated them, and the dogs from each home were free to wander the intervening land most of the time. Sparkey and Tina joined the friendly pack of about ten dogs immediately, and they played and ran and frolicked for hours in the green meadow grass, stopping periodically for rest, satisfied panting, and a brief check-in with the more sedentary humans.

Talking about this party and the incredible time that the dogs experienced brought to mind what Dog Heaven might look like: rolling hills, perfect flora and fauna, just enough sun and shade, plenty of clean water, tasty treats, and an abundance of dogs with which to play. I hope that this is what greeted Sparkey at the end of his journey, and that the pleasure of that adventure is great indeed.

As for us here on Terra Firma, life in its physical manifestation goes on. These nine months have seen great adjustment on our part, as well as reconciliation with, and acceptance of, the reality of Sparkey's passing. We will not let the memories fade, but the pain does indeed begin to lessen, leaving in its wake a wistful longing for that which was, even if only for a moment of contact and mutual recognition. But we are satisfied with the full and satisfying life that Sparkey lived, and count ourselves as especially lucky to have come under his watchful and loving gaze during his earthly sojourn.

So, letting go some more, and accepting some more. Grieving a little more. And letting go again.

Eighth Month Dream

2007-05-02T06:41:00.000-04:00

Early this morning, I had a very clear dream about Sparkey. He and I were walking on a beautiful wooded path in the autumn, a time of year when his golden coat would match the forest. He was running excitedly back and forth on the path as was his wont when he was in his full adult healthy glory. The path wound along between old brick buildings which had been somewhat subsumed by the forest, although several of the buildings had outdoor patios which people seemed to use to enjoy the splendor of the woods.

A man came up behind us and Sparkey seemed to recognize him, running quickly up to greet him. The man said he remembered Sparkey clearly, and told a brief story how Sparks had once come running up to him in the forest and had given him a kiss. The man described how he had been healed by that kiss and the love which it communicated.

I assume that the man represented a part of me which was healed by Sparkey, and I can clearly see how Sparkey's love will continue to heal me long after his body has returned to the soil. Sitting by his grave yesterday, I told Mary that I could understand now that Sparkey's body was in the earth, but he wasn't really there at all. Mary said, "Yes, that's just his bag of bones, and he shook his bag his bones." Shook indeed. He shook himself free, and it's up to us to be sensitive enough to feel his love from that noncorporeal place.

Seven

2007-04-02T19:46:00.000-04:00

Today marks seven months that my canine soul-mate, Sparkey, left this world. It feels important to continue to mark these passages for now, to acknowledge the loss and keep letting go.

Spending time with a friend over the weekend, she admitted that she used to think our emotional focus on our dogs---and the general fuss we would make about their seemingly uninteresting doings---was somewhat weird. She also admitted that, over time, she has come to "get it", to understand what that connection is really about, how integral to our lives that animals can become. I appreciated that insight, and imagined all of the people who we bored to tears over the years with our endless and tireless fawning over Sparkey and Tina.

Every animal lover thinks that their animal is the most special creature in the world---and they're so correct in thinking so. It is that bond, that ineffable string of emotional connection, that knits an animal into a family structure. Mary and I have been married almost eighteen years, and Sparkey was with us for fourteen of those years, Tina for twelve. That's a long time to have creatures who are so dependent, so loyal, and so totally and unconditionally focused on you and your daily life, always there when you come home, always ready to wag a tail and look into your eyes.

For those who cannot really understand this loss, I am sorry for that which they have missed. Loving an animal, and cleaving him or her close to one's heart, is a wondrous thing, and an experience not to be taken for granted. I am so grateful to Sparkey for his years of service and loyalty, and I continue to honor and thank him for his devotion. As a spiritual person, I truly believe that Sparkey was (and is) a member of my soul family, and although our physical proximity has changed, our tender connection cannot.

These seven months will eventually be seven years, then seventeen, then twenty-seven, and more. He will always live in my heart and memory, and more importantly, deep in my soul.

---Keith

Early Spring Without Sparks

2007-03-31T17:10:00.000-04:00

These are some of the days when I miss Sparkey alot. It's early Spring, and the weather is starting to warm, but it's still a little chilly, especially in the shade. We feel drawn outside to the sun, but know that it's not quite as warm as we would like.

Mary and Tina settle in for a weekend afternoon nap, but I feel the need to at least get some sun on my face and stretch my legs. When Sparkey was alive, these were the times when he and I would head for the outdoors, leaving the two females of the household to enjoy their sleepy bliss. With water, a snack, a book in hand, and loyal Sparkey at my side, we would stroll out the door and head for the trails. Sometimes, I wanted to stretch out in the sun, or just read for a while. He'd sit beside me, smell the breeze, watch the horizon, sometimes wandering off for a few minutes' parambulation. When he was a little younger, I'd hop on my bike and he would jog effortlessly alongside.

Sadly, today I had to head out that door alone, and simply feel Sparkey's spirit beside me, imagining his golden body trotting alongside, tongue hanging out, eyes soft and warm. I returned to the house, sat by his grave, talked to him in my mind, and came back in to wake Mary and Tina from their slumber.

A Tribute to Pookah the Wonder Dog

2007-03-04T18:25:00.000-05:00

On 3/3/07, 12:45 pm, Pookah theWonder Dog, at the age of 18 ½, took her last breath with the assistance of a local kind veterinarian.

Pookah was raised by Niki, Renee, Andy, Leslie and Jeff Staudinger next to a horse farm in South Royalton, VT. Pookah and I became the best of friends 10+ years ago.

She was extraordinary.

She would…

run next to only the family cars as they left home(clocked at 25 mph) for years.

Bunny hop in deep snow

When she was young her whole body would shake when she was in cars- after I came along she loved hanging her head out the window and was always eager with the words, “wanna go for a
ride Poo?”

She raised many kitties in her life and would groom each one of them with tiny nibbles as though massaging them, making them hers.

She loved rolling on her back, frolicking, scratching, in the hay fields near the house on our walks- (This was such a pleasure to watch)

4 or 5 years ago she had a stroke or an inner ear infection that had her walking like a drunken sailor for a few days. ( She recovered near fully---the only residual being that she was less fastidious in her plate-cleaning abilities.)

She would purr as her kitties had taught her.

She would run for miles as the alpha dog in the neighborhood, going on horseback rides with the
neighbors' trail rides with their pack of 5+ dogs.

She loved getting treats I would buy or be gifted for her from the local café---Mocha Joes. She loved RB’s Deli.

She would be given treat of bagels from neighbors and carry them home to bury them beneath Renee’s pillow.

Her last Thanksgiving we expected her to sleep up in Leslie’s room but instead she was in the center of the action---eating and being social for hours.

She loved Nancy Zoe’s seders and meals and the gourmet treats from Pat and Ralph at the Greenfield Contra dances.

Her picture hangs in Rivendell Books in Montpelier---maybe two.

At her visit to the Long Island Sound in CT, on the occasion of my Mother’s funeral, Poo drank from the salty water and was confused.

At the end she weighed nearly half her healthy weight.

Skunked once---porcupined once.

Rumor has it she was well mannered and never received table scraps while at the table until she met me.

Such regal qualities she had.

Rarely in the past many years when we would head home, would I not say repeatedly , “ I hope Poo’s ok.”

In the heat of Summer, she would dig holes beneath the shrubbery to lie in or lie beneath the vans’ back wheels.

I have an extra heavy winter coat with a rabbit fur hood lining that Pooh was fond of eating in her younger years.

She often got burdocked in the fall.

She loved chocolate, wasabi rice crackers, coffee cake,chocolate chip cookies, smoked-peppered mackerel fish skin, ice cream.

Her snout often got caught in 6-ounce yogurt containers or pints of ice cream. Towards the end she developed a remarkable jaw grip, release and spin technique to get all the way around an ice cream pint without letting it down.

She used to get stroked by Andy so softly so as not to disturb her.

Niki often had the refrain…”Oh look at her Mommy. She is sooo Cute!!!”

For the past year or so she has had no hearing and little sight but today, she sure lifted her ears when Leslie walked in saying “Hi Poo, how are you honey?”

Today before the last ride to the Vet’s, Poo feasted on many of her favorite treats,

Today was the day because yesterday was the first day she could not maintain her balance or stand or walk for any length of time.

She did not deserve to suffer---prior to yesterday she showed me few signs of distress as she could get up, eat, drink, etc. of her own accord.

Today she was in no apparent discomfort.

Thank you for honoring her and me in reading this.

Thank you for your love Pookah.

gary

Memories of Snowy Days Past

2007-03-02T10:53:00.000-05:00

Today marks six months that Sparkey has been physically gone from us. This photo brings back such memories of winter days past, when Sparkey would want to play in the snow for hours. The wind would lift his ears, crystals of snow dotting his forehead, and it seemed like he might fly off, squinting eyes and all.

Tina has become our joy, our wiggling playmate, but Sparkey is still sorely missed. I think of his body in the front yard, resting in the cold and damp winter earth, reminding myself that that body is not really him. He was a spiritual creature, but his earthiness was just so visceral and palpable. His smell, his solid body, his pointy head, his musky paws, his little wild eyelashes, that neck that you could hug and hug---his physical presence was such a comfort.

It's now half a year since he left this world, and before we know it a year will have gone by. I could never have imagined life without him, but here we are, and life goes on. We love him still.

---Keith

Remembering Sparkey's Soulful Eyes

2007-02-19T12:55:00.000-05:00

---Keith

I Miss Sparkey

2007-02-12T21:42:00.000-05:00

I miss Sparkey today. Plain and simple, I just miss him, his pointy little head, his soulful eyes. Nothing to do, nothing to say. It just is.

---Keith

Five Months

2007-02-02T07:18:00.000-05:00

Today is Sparkey's five-month anniversary of being released from his body. I mark this second day of February by sending love to him, thanking him for his visits, and admitting that there are days when I miss him so much I would give anything to pat his pointy little head.

Yes, death is only a change and the spirit knows no bounds, but the loss of those soulful eyes, that regal gait, the swishing tail, and yes, the bad breath, is at times still so stinging.

His body lies out there in our yard, becoming one with the earth, returning to from whence it came. I just miss his physical warmth and loyal proximity, and that's a simple reality of being a survivor.

I miss my boy, and I send him my love.

---Keith

Visitations

2007-01-09T07:13:00.000-05:00

A few nights ago, Mary was upstairs and I was getting ready to carry Tina up and get ready for bed (Tina had knee surgery a month ago and still can't climb stairs). When I got to the top of the stairs and was about to put Tina down, I could have sworn I heard Sparkey's pitter-patter of paws on the wood floor of the dining room on the first floor. Suddenly, Mary came out of the bedroom without my having uttered a word and said, "I think I heard Sparkey downstairs!" We looked at each other and then yelled, "Hi, Sparkey, we love you!"

Again, yesterday, I was walking Tina around the block before Mary came home. When we got back to the house, Tina went straight to Sparkey's grave, pulling me with all her might. (She generally shows no interest in this part of the yard, usually having much greater interest in getting back inside to the warmth and waiting treats.) Once she was next to the grave, she sat down and would not move, staring fixedly at the grave. I stroked her and acknowledged that, yes, this is where Sparkey's body was buried. She then turned around and sat absolutely still, watching a spot near the house very intently.

A few moments later, I saw Mary's car rounding the corner of our street, so Tina and I made our way towards the driveway which is not within sight of our house but lies down a wooded path between our neighbor's homes. As we came down the path, Mary got out of her car and exclaimed that she could have sworn that she saw Sparkey trotting behind us. I then told her about Tina's behavior at the grave and we both looked at one another and smiled.

---Keith

Four Months

2007-01-02T19:54:00.000-05:00

Today is four months since Sparkey left us and got his wings. Yesterday, January 1st, was the birthday we chose for him, since we didn't really know when he was born. I'm pretty sure he was born in December of 1992, though, based on when Mary found him and how old the vet thought he was.

The ache for his company is not as strong as it was at first, but I still miss him. He always seemed to be there. He was great fun at the holidays, with shiny and colorful bows stuck to his head, or those humiliating doggie antlers.

Tina does seem lonely sometimes, especially when we come home from a long day at work. Even though a teenage girl from the neighborhood spends an hour with her each afternoon at three, there's no substitute for family. She just doesn't have anyone to talk to when we're gone, but we just don't want another dog---not yet.

I know alot of people feel deeply connected on a soul level with their pets, and I am one of those people. Sparkey was much more than a dog. He was so tuned in to the human world. I still feel his connection to me even now, and I thank him for his loyal service to our family.

Is it morbid to continue to write about him and mourn his passing? Maybe, but it sure is therapeutic, and a nice way to keep his memory alive. Four months apart in the face of almost fourteen years together is such a comparatively brief time. I miss him, and feel his love still.

Four months, and counting.

---Keith

Kisses

2006-12-23T12:02:00.000-05:00

These photos were taken the day of Sparkey's Living Memorial, circa April, 2006.

The Final Days--Some Images

2006-12-10T19:52:00.000-05:00

Here are some photos from Sparkey's final full day of life which have been sitting unseen in our camera for three months. Mostly, I've been unwilling to download the photos onto our hard drive, knowing that within that batch of photos---over 100---are some shots of Sparkey at rest in his grave, wrapped in a cloth that has been in our family for more than a decade. If any of you would like to see those photos which are, in fact, quite sweet, please email us privately and we will forward them to you. Due to the tender and personal nature of death, we will not publish them here.

A very sweet Sparkey taking his last ride in the car to town.

A sleepy moment by the pond......

The ubiquitous smile.......

A kiss for Momma.....

Being carried by Daddy.....

Of ribs and booties......

Looking towards the future.......

---Keith

Three Months

2006-12-02T09:44:00.000-05:00

Three months and counting. Sparkey's body continues to become one with the earth, his grave just feet from our house, the rhododendrons still embracing the unseasonable warmth of early December. Today is also the five-year anniversary of the death of our dear friend Woody, one of Sparkey's best buddies. On my other blog I wrote:

Sparkey and Woody were quite the pair, often barrelling together through the woods, returning to the house bleeding, limping, panting, and grinning from ear to ear. They seemed like brothers then, with matching red and golden fur, both unconditionally loving and loved. We miss them both so much, and hope they can frolic together in the grasses of some far-off heaven that is actually closer to us than it seems.

We do miss those two, but also feel them so close to us still. Sparkey's loving spirit is easy to access, and I send him love on this and every day.

---Keith

Two Months

2006-11-02T21:37:00.000-05:00

Today marks two months since Sparkey left his body and this sweet and troubled planet. He is still missed, of course, but the pain has ebbed for now.

Mary said today that our job is to be happy for him in his new circumstance, and rejoice for his freedom from illness and disability. Our other job is to be happy ourselves, the greatest gift we could give him. Lastly, but most important, is the happy job of loving Tina like never before. And that is just so easy......

We love you, Spark, and bless you now and forever.

---Keith

Sparkey's Twin

2006-10-28T21:18:00.000-04:00

I was perusing some blogs that I like today and returned to Arse Poetica, one of my faves. In a recent post, the canine-loving author posted a photo of one of her dogs, the close-up of her face being the spitting image of Sparkey, so much so that it made me gasp. Please go see this photo here and tell me what you think. Wow.

---Keith

Pangs

2006-10-18T19:10:00.000-04:00

I so much wanted to see Sparkey's beautiful orange and white face when I came home today. Tina's greeting was all tail-wagging affection, and she always makes her delight in our long-awaited arrival thoroughly apparent. Still, there was a little pang in my heart when I came in the door and only one tail and set of canine eyes were there to greet me. After a hard day, coming home and realizing yet again that Sparkey is gone left me with a little feeling of emptiness, a void which I will fill with gratitude for his life and affection for Tina, our grey-coated love.

---Keith

Saying Goodbye Again and Again

2006-10-12T09:51:00.000-04:00

Last night, we watched In America, a sweet film about an Irish couple who come to New York City with their two school-age daughters in order to escape the memories of their young son who died from cancer. Towards the end of the film, as the father comes to terms with the loss and finally is able to say goodbye to the lost child, Mary and I both tearfully said goodbye to Sparkey and took another turn towards accepting that he really is gone. Just another page in the book of Sparkey's life, his death, and his lingering presence which blesses us daily.

Another Autumnal Portrait

2006-10-11T08:14:00.000-04:00

One Year Ago

2006-10-09T08:22:00.000-04:00

Here's a photo of our Golden Boy one year ago, climbing our favorite small local mountain. When Sparks was a new puppyish member of our family long ago, we lived at the base of this mountain and he learned to hike off-leash in these very woods. He quickly became the kind of dog who would calmly wait for us at each fork in the path to make sure we didn't get lost. He always seemed at his happy best in the woods.....

---Keith

Arriving Home

2006-10-08T20:06:00.000-04:00

We just arrived home from our first overnight trip away from Tina since Sparkey died. As always, trusty house-sitters stayed here with her, allowing her to be in her own environment with people who she knows well. Luckily for her and us (and previously for Sparkey) our dogs have never stayed in a kennel, always spending time at home with loving dog-sitters, even when we were gone for weeks at a time. Still, it's a historical marker which cannot be ignored.

We came home to a happy and well-adjusted girl, apparently well fed and seemingly not starving for human contact, although she was down in the basement on a beautiful late afternoon when we arrived home---a curious finding. Nonetheless, she's our best girl and we're all together again.

Now for a cozy fall evening, home at last, a candle burning on Sparkey's autumnal resting place.

A tribe of three, together again.

missing

2006-10-03T21:35:00.000-04:00

i pause to honor keith's faithful and beautiful writing to this blog on top of his other one. mostly though, i acknowledge his continued loyatly to sparkey. keith has quietly been honoring and nurturing the parts of him that will always be true to his love for and with "sparkey d. dog". from his nightly ritual of lighting the candle and sitting in silence at the edge of the woods in sparkey's spot both in life and after death, keith has kept vigil. from his bike, in the car, at work, in our bed, keith has kept vigil in his heart and i thank him for his devotion. i am probably more deeply sorry for his loss because i am closest to it, and because it is a loss that i share deeply.

i won't go into what a pretty awful month it has been since sparkey died, which understates how our lives have been. Suffice it to say that i have struggled and grieved more than i imagined i would---even though i could barely imagine life without Sparkey's simple and reliable, gentle and comforting presence. i miss that dog so much, and even though there has been somewhat of a pall over our home as we have experienced much sadness of late, we remember to give and receive plenty of tender lovin' care with our girl Tina. She is doing better than all of us combined--or so it seems. and this is a great comfort in a time of needing just that. so thanks to Tina too!

in gratitude for my amazing housemates, lifemates and soulmates!

ahoy to you, maties!

all my love,

mary

A Full Month

2006-10-02T23:44:00.000-04:00

Here we are, the 2nd of October, marking a full month since Sparkey's passing. I note that my recovery is slow, and I am definitely experiencing some level of anhedonia on a daily basis. It's time to put more energy into healing and moving on, not just holding on.

Out at Sparkey's grave at sunset, I had a talk with him. I told him that my nightly candle-lighting may become something I begin to do when I am moved to do so, not merely as a habit or ritual. I will continue to honor him by trying to heal, to move forward, to allow myself to embrace joy again, even in his absence. I know that he would want me to be joyful---as I believe he is now, himself---and my ability to continue to embrace life is a testament to all he taught me during our thirteen years together. He was the embodiment of being in the present, and now my task at hand is to do the same, not dwelling in the past and longing for what is no more. This is a difficult lesson.

My grieving for Sparkey has opened other wounds, other longings, and the time has come to welcome it all, embrace it all, and find a way to allow those losses to integrate into my life, into my heart, and transform into joy again.

The operative question is, how?

---Keith

28 Days (A work in progress)

2006-09-30T15:07:00.000-04:00

28 days gone by. Four whole weeks without our boy.
The sheet upon which he died is now on its way to the laundry. We've held on to it long enough.
His body lies in the earth.
His beat-up old boots, held together with duct tape, sit on a shelf with his collar and tags.
And his body lies in the earth as his spirit soars.

---Keith

Balm for the Soul

2006-09-28T20:33:00.000-04:00

Having Sparkey's grave right outside our door, I'm clearly seeing for the first time the beauty and emotional balm which a well-tended grave provides. In my personal cosmology, the body is a shell in which the spirit briefly travels, and although I realize that Sparkey's body is not truly "him", there is great comfort in knowing that his body, which we knew and loved so well, is returning to its organic source directly under our gaze, on land which he himself knew and loved.

Sitting out there tonight after sundown, lighting a candle, I found it easy to talk to him. It's simply a place to connect, a place where I can feel his spirit, knowing that, on some level, he feels my love and beams his love back to me. I feel even more connected with him when we're out walking or biking in his beloved fields, and Mary felt his presence the other day as we wheeled along the pond in the late afternoon sun, Tina racing behind us.

This autumn, I plan to climb a few small local mountains that Sparkey loved, to sit and contemplate this land with which he was enthralled, and to relive some of those moments of joy we experienced side by side in nature. He loved the snow, he seemed to enjoy the slowness of the heat and the coolness of a splash in the pond or the creek, although he admittedly seemed repulsed by getting wet in the rain, and would often sit at the door and refuse to go out in anything more than a sprinkle. When he did get wet, however, there was nothing he seemed to like better than a vigorous rub-down with a nice dry towel. I would thread the towel under his belly and "floss" his undercarriage, and he would stand so still as I did so. He seemed to love these post-walk ablutions, and it was a joy to rub him down and then watch him roll on the carpet in satisfied delight.

Now, the times when he rolled in rotting mushrooms or got a face full of porcupine quills were not such fun, but they were part and parcel of life with a dog, especially a dog as spirited as old Bob. How we loved so many things about him, like a benign uncle who just always seemed to be there when you needed him, but rarely asked for much in return. He was beloved by many,and even our friends who are not such "dog people" admit that he captured their hearts and filled them with joy with just a glance or a turn of the head. His specialness was contagious---and unavoidable.

So, his body slowly melts back into the earth, returning to the soil from which it sprang. The bulbs which blossom in the spring after the thawing of the long winter will be a testament to his enduring beauty, and to our unending gratitude for his kind soul's visit to our home, and our hearts.

---Keith

A Touch of Tina

2006-09-26T20:56:00.000-04:00

Carnival of the Dogs

2006-09-25T07:19:00.000-04:00

For those of you unfamiliar with blog carnivals, they are collections of blog entries on certain subjects from various participants, generally published on a relatively regular basis. I frequently submit posts from my other blog to Grand Rounds, a medical blog carnival, but last month I submitted a post to Carnival of the Dogs and was just informed that the current version of that carnival is dedicated to none other than Sparkey. You can click here to see the entry, graced with Sparkey's smiling photo. His fame is apparently spreading.

---Keith

A Gift

2006-09-24T00:02:00.000-04:00

Just last week, we received a sympathy card in the mail. We've received many, but this one was from an organization in a nearby city that is committed to rescuing homeless cats. It seems that the home-visiting veterinarian who compassionately assisted Sparkey in leaving his tired body made a donation to this organization in Sparkey's honor, and they were writing to inform us of this loving act. We were very moved, to say the least, that she would go to such a length, and we are so very grateful that this donation was made to honor our Sparkey's gentle life.

Money never really entered into the scenario with the vet on that day when she came to do what we and Sparkey needed her to do, even as we dreaded the moment that he would close his eyes forever. I handed her a blank signed check and told her there was no need for further discussion---we were to just focus on him. She complied, and the gift we receive in return is her generosity of spirit in making this donation.

Sparkey gave us so many gifts, but it seems that the gifts just keep on coming. He must be having a cosmic chuckle that I'm even surprised at that outcome. "How else would you have it be?" he asks. "My life is the gift that keeps on giving."

---Keith

Autumn Arrives

2006-09-23T08:55:00.000-04:00

Although Sparkey was beautiful during any season, I especially loved the Autumn when his orange coat would often match or blend in with the leaves on the ground. He seemed to revel in each season---naturally---exalting in the snows of Winter, the crisp leaves of Autumn, the verdant newness of Spring, the cauldron of Summer. He loved it all because he was so present. Present and always accounted for.

Today marks three weeks since his passing, and though the ache is less, it is still present, as is his spirit. I was talking to someone at a party last night, and she showed me laminated photos from her wallet of her dog who died several years ago. Another person shared with me that she could cry every day---if she allowed herself to---about her dog that died three years ago. These notions normalize my grief, and also bring home the fact that I will always miss Sparkey's body and physical presence, but I can still be thankful for his thirteen-year visit and the joy he brought to so many.

I still miss him so.

---Keith

Signs of Sparkey

2006-09-20T21:10:00.000-04:00

There are so many physical signs of Sparkey around the house. How they tug at the heart strings and bring visceral memories to life.

When I would give Sparks his IV, he would sometimes bleed from the puncture site, and if I wasn't diligent about putting pressure on the site after removing the large needle from his skin, he would inevitably shake (like he was coming out of a pond) and diluted blood would spray in all directions. There are some spots in the house where spatters of reddish pink still adorn the walls, and we are both reluctant to remove the stains.

So many windows and sliding glass doors carry smudges from Sparkey's big nose. These smudges are memories of how he would press himself against the glass in our absence, getting as close to the outdoors as possible. Lucky for him, he had a lovely screened-in porch for six or seven months of the year, plus a doggie door and fenced-in yard. Not bad digs, really, but the yard was small. He always seemed to hate the backyard and fenced-in feeling. One of our housemates who helped build the fence named it "The Sparkitentiary".

The little foam mattress where Sparkey breathed his last breaths is still on the porch in the exact place where it was when we held him and set him free. It is covered with a burgundy flannel sheet which we have been hesitating to wash, his essence still palpable there. Tina often sits or lays on the spot where he died, and we too spend some time there. We're getting ready to let that one go, but it is a slow decision to be made.

The house is much less covered with fur now that Sparkey is gone. Tina sheds very little, and the dust bunnies were certainly more of a Sparkey origin, to be sure. As we do late summer cleaning, those reminders of his earthly presence slowly disappear into the vacuum, and eventually his fur will no longer sit in little corners of the house and under furniture. As we let go more and more, the physical reminders will also slowly diminish, and other memories will suffice.

This is yet another step along the road. Many people might not understand the visceral quality of this type of loss, but those who have lost an animal companion will "get it" immediately. Unconditional love is an amazing gift, and Sparkey gave us that gift for thirteen years. Our unconditional love for him continues unabated, and these remembrances are just part and parcel of the journey.

---Keith

Memories and Blessings

2006-09-18T21:28:00.000-04:00

Sorry that the posts are so few and far between this week, but life is what happens when you're busy making other plans, as John Lennon once wisely sang.

More than two weeks after Sparkey having physically left us, his essence still abides in the house, and we feel him among us in different ways. The candle still burns on his grave every night, and we still extinguish the flame before retiring to bed for the night.

I still so want to see him beside the bed in the morning. I would just hang my arm off of the bed and almost inevitably find his ribs to stroke, that resonant sound reverberating as I patted his bony flank. I'm sure Tina misses him, but she does seem to be doing OK, just without canine company to chat with as the neighborhood noises come and go throughout the day. I even miss the nightly ritual of the IV, and the late evening walks we would take together, Mary and Tina huddled in the house or on the porch. How many hours I spent sitting in the street with him, or on the side of the road in the dirt or the grass. Whenever I had the time to spare, I would let him lead the way and guide the trajectory of our parambulations, even when we would just sit for an hour on the sidewalk, watching the world go by his only apparent agenda.

The pain and emptiness of not having him on walks around the neighborhood has calmed. The ache is less, although still there, and at times my heart just cries for him, even if my eyes are dry. I think of the many hours I spent over the years just laying on the floor next to that loving creature, nose to nose, breathing with him and communing in the most simple way. Just being together---that was the sweetness.

My conversations with Sparkey in the last week have been many, mostly having to do with memories, as well as my blessings going out to him as he explores his new world, his new etheric body. I have recounted the states we visited, the cities, the towns, the parks, the lakes, the ponds, the trails and mountains. How many homes we visited, hotels we slept in, places we camped. I visited with him in my mind all of the stores downtown where we would go to get treats and love and water. I talked to him about the grand re-opening of our local collective bookstore where he was a frequent visitor. The party was in 2005. It was crowded, a DJ spinning Latin CDs, food galore, and Sparkey on the dance-floor with us, among the people, a true party animal.

We had so many gatherings and parties in our several homes over the years, and he was always right there with us. Wild dance parties, Sparkey nipping at people's butts as they danced to the music. Healing circles and meditations where he knew just what to do. Dinner parties when scraps were like manna from heaven. And simple gatherings of friends where he could relax and be a dog among a pack, content to listen to the cadences and timbre of our voices, always alert for movement towards shoes, the door, and finally a walk.

Memories come and go so quickly, and I will continue to write them down for you to also share. He was a true member of my soul family---not just a dog, but a piece of who I am. I miss him so, but thank him for all he gave me.

Thank you for spending some time with us here. And please do come by again.

---Keith

Sparkey at Rest

2006-09-12T19:32:00.000-04:00

Here are some photos of Sparkey's resting place, taken after Rene came and planted an Ivory Halo Dogwood bush (center), as well as several varieties of Mums. In the Spring we will see thirteen crocuses, narcissus and tulips bloom, representing the thirteen years that Sparkey brightened the earth with his presence.

We are still lighting a candle every night at sunset, and words and acts of compassion still flow our way regularly across the wires, ethers, and miles.

Walking Tina around the block just before sunset tonight, I felt a wave of missing Sparkey. As a friend wrote to me recently, "There is now a Sparkey-sized hole in your heart." May that hole be filled with sweet memories of the past and joy for his new life.

Meanwhile, the candle burns.

---Keith

Continuing On.....

2006-09-10T19:17:00.000-04:00

We returned from our retreat/conference to a happy and playful Tina, well-cared-for by our son Rene for the weekend. It was so sad to not see Sparkey's face looking longingly through the window, but lovely to be greeted by Tina's furry and seemingly well-adjusted self.

Rene used his gardening and landscaping skills to adorn Sparkey's grave, planting mums, a dogwood bush, and thirteen bulbs representing Sparkey's years on earth, photos of which are forthcoming when our computer issues are sorted out. He continued the ritual of lighting a candle on Spark's grave at sunset each night and blowing it out at bedtime. Our mailbox offered even more sympathy cards, our voicemail and email still oozing with verbal sympathies from friends far and near. We give thanks for everyone's thoughtfulness.

In a gentle yoga class this morning in a temple space at the retreat center, I was lying on my back and the teacher was talking about accepting death as readily as we accept life. Moments later I felt Sparkey walk through the solid wood door of the temple and settle on my right side, thumping into me as he would do when settling next to me in bed. I silently acknowledged this visitation and thanked him for it. This incident reminded me of a similar occurence after our friend Woody was murdered. I was lying in fetal position on the bed, weeping, and I literally felt Woody lay down beside me and "spoon" me, a sense of momentary comfort which I still remember to this day.

In James Agee's A Death in the Family, Agee vividly describes the family of the deceased character sitting in the living room on the night of his untimely death. They feel him enter the house, a worried and distraught energy filling the air. This visitor then climbed the stairs, entered each of the rooms of his two children as if to tuck them in, and then exited the house as swiftly and silently as he had appeared. They are all dumbstruck, and all but two agree that what they had just experienced was not a mass hallucination but a phenomena which has been described for millennia. Whether these incidents are "real" in the literal sense means nothing to me in the sense that they were "real" enough for me to experience them and be affected by them deeply.

This process continues, the candle burns on the grave, and another day ends with Sparkey's physical vessel lying in the earth not forty feet from where I type. My missing him is still so stark, but my love for this very special animal knows no bounds of physicality.

---Keith

Retreat

2006-09-07T22:09:00.000-04:00

We will be on retreat until Monday, away from all things digital. Thanks to everyone for the kind words, delicious food, kind notes, loving emails, compassionate comments and support.

May your heart be filled with compassion and love, today and always, and may all beings be free from suffering.

When someone is suffering and you find yourself at a loss to know how to help, put yourself unflinchingly in his or her place. Imagine as vividly as possible what you would be going through if you were suffering the same pain. Ask yourself: “How would I feel? How would I want my friends to treat me? What would I most want from them?”

When you exchange yourself for others in this way, you are directly transferring your cherishing from its usual object, yourself, to other beings. So exchanging yourself for others is a very powerful way of loosening the hold on you of the self-cherishing and the self-grasping of ego, and so of releasing the heart of your compassion.----Sogyal Rinpoche

All Part of the Process

2006-09-06T21:24:00.000-04:00

Tonight, my face muscles feel tight, perhaps with unshed tears.

Looking at this photo, Mary reminds me that we both were outside with Tina when this photo was taken, separated from Sparkey by the glass. Now we are separated by the veil which divides the world of the living from that of the dead. But as Sweet Honey in the Rock once sang, "The dead are not under the earth; they are in the waving grass, they are in the rushing stream....."

Each day, each hour presents a new moment to experience in a new way. A smile, a tear, a wave of sadness, a moment of forgetting, another moment of remembrance. It is a sure sign that the process is under way, unimpeded.

Do I think it strange to not have cried for two days? Does this pall over my face and around my countenance mean that I'm holding back? Or is it just what I'm supposed to do? I've been here before, this grieving place, and it's as unpredictable as the New England weather.

The evening candle burns bright on Sparkey's grave, and I'll go outside and blow it out when I finish writing. It's my way of ritualistically acknowledging him, of remembering, and then saying goodnight as I move toward the dream world where I hope to catch a glimpse of my sweet boy. Some people might ask why I grieve so for this animal, this four-legged, and I can only answer that those who have known this kind of love would never have to ask such a question.

The tears come now in a sob, and I just send him love and thanks for his unconditional loyalty. Perhaps now these facial muscles will relax and transform into smiles of joy for his soul's beautiful and well-deserved freedom.

---Keith

Missing Sparkey

2006-09-05T20:54:00.000-04:00

Here we are on Tuesday. Sparkey's body has been in the ground for three days. A candle glows on his grave every night.

It is so difficult to fully take in the fact that he's gone, that this thirteen-year physical relationship, so grounded in the physical world, is over as we knew it. Walks, food, snacks, water, affection---it all revolved around his needs and ours. It was mutual regard, love, and loyalty. That has not changed, but his warm body is the missing piece in the equation, and that is the change most difficult to embrace.

To the left is the final photograph taken of Sparkey alive, no more than two hours before the vet arrived on Saturday afternoon. After a walk around the block, he sat on the driveway---as was his wont---and just wanted to watch the world go by. Rene teased him with a stick, playing with a line of drool---that ubiquitous drool (in these latter days, anyway)---that fell from his old man's dog-lips. He seems content in this photo, playing with his human brother.

Tina seems to be adjusting well, although how she'll be when we both return to work tomorrow remains to be seen. After finishing her dinner tonight she immediately ran over to Sparkey's old spot by the 'fridge to see if there were any morsels she could scarf up, but his bowl is no longer there. Ten years they spent side by side every day and night. How this will be for her in the long run remains to be seen. For now, we lavish her with love and affection.

This will be a long road.

---Keith

Dream visit

2006-09-05T13:45:00.000-04:00

Here is the scene of my dream with Sparkey, whom I asked to visit in our dreams as he was leaving his body and we were saying our sweet farewells....Already he has honored my request:

Water Blessing

Sparkey is in the center. It is the shape of his body that is here, though is hair is longer and there is a general dullness, or lackluster, about this color. It seems as though it takes a lot of energy for him to be here, but he gets up, as he always did, and moves about and asks for water. He drinks water, and he assures me that his body is dead, not to worry, but that his visit is to tell me to drink more water and to tell me that he is okay. How does he know that I have been parched since his death? All the water coming out of my eyes and nose and lungs! He just knows and he’s made this special appearance to care for me. I will call Keith and encourage him to drink water too, but I think Sparkey knows Keith will drink a lot of water at work today, so Rene' will definitely get the friendly reminder from beyond via a call from mom.

Thank you, Sparkey, I got your message, and beside me is a big glass of water (with Emergen-C in it). I will always remember the gingerly way you sipped the last water you had here on earth…Right before the doctor came to the house, you were lying in the bed on your beloved porch, all ready for leaving, and I was holding the top of the glass decanter, a little drinking glass, up to your lovely snout. When you realized it was water I was offering, you tenderly lapped some up until you had your fill---you had just had your last drink from the toilet and it was pretty major, so you didn’t care for much. It seemed like such an act of affection, you drinking the water from the little glass as you did. Keith said a prayer over you as your tongue moistened your kind mouth, wishing that you may drink and never thirst…We drank from this glass before you did, and when Tina returned to the house to say good-bye to your body with us, she too drank from this glass, as if she smelled all of our scents on it, knowing it was her turn for the water blessing…The glass remains, as yet unevaporated, one of the Sparkey shrine that holds your collar, leash, and roughed up booties, Bob.

Thank you for honoring my request to visit in my dreams so soon after you have passed. To you, I lift my glass, to you I give thanks for your long and glorious life on earth with your human/canine pack, and to you I bow in humble recognition of your new life...

Goodbye sweet boy. Be free. We will be okay, but it sure ain't easy and it's gonna take some time.

~Mary

2006-09-04T23:23:00.000-04:00

Blessings on Sparkey's Journey

2006-09-04T23:14:00.000-04:00

Dear Sparkey,

We never met this time on earth. I feel though like I know you. I met you through a prayer and healing request, on a network that I shepherd.

Sparkey you have touched my heart deeply. I know that you are a kind, gentle and noble being and have been a wonderful healing for those who you have been with. I have prayed for you in your transition. Now you are free. Your loving nature will always be.
Bless you on your new journey.

Joanie

Sparkey's Passage From This Earth

2006-09-03T11:36:00.000-04:00

Dear Friends and Loved Ones,

Yesterday, September 2nd, 2006, at 2:20pm, Sparkey left his body and this physical existence in the most peaceful way imaginable. The screened-in porch was a sacred space---a shrine created lovingly by Mary---of photos, candles, objects of devotion, and mementos of Sparkey's sweet and noble life. The party lights were lit all night on Friday, the porch glowing, the cool breezes cleansing the space. Mary smudged the house with sage, and also smudged Sparkey several times briefly.

The vet arrived at 1:30, Tina already in the care of a neighbor, her shades drawn so that Tina would not see the vet's van and be traumatized by the sight of it. Rene and I dug the grave in the morning, the area protected from rain with a brown tarp suspended from surrounding trees, that piece of earth blessed and consecrated by the three of us before beginning our task. We had at the ready an urn of our dear friend Woody's ashes, several of Rene's wisdom teeth, three sticks representing the three of us, a bone unearthed while digging the grave (most likely buried by Tina some long-forgotten afternoon), and a sage smudge stick. We had chosen a lovely cotton tapestry of aqua and earth tones and Native American design in which to wrap his body. This fabric had covered a favorite chair in our house where he had lived as a puppy. The grave was round like a womb and three feet deep.

The compassionate doctor sat with us on the floor of the porch as we connected with Sparkey. He had ensconced himself in the very spot where we had planned for his transition to occur, and we only had to shift him slightly so that we could all kneel on the foam mattress at his head. The vet sat at his feet and explained that she would inject a strong sedative into his buttock muscle so that he would become very drowsy and probably fall asleep. Only when he was completely relaxed would she access a vein on his hind leg and insert a needle and small catheter which would allow for the overdose of anesthesia which would actually stop his heart. Following the first injection, we all brought our faces very close to his, looking in his eyes as they became heavier, telling him sweet things, what dogs to look for in his new home, and how grateful we were to him for his service and loyal companionship. Even after more than a minute, he still was not completely drowsy, his head moving slowly from right to left, approximately four inches above the bed. I had the image that he was already slightly above his body, trying to detach, and was looking from left to right to take in a final image of the three of us and the scene in which he was the central player.

Following a whispered conversation between myself and the vet, she injected another dose of sedative and he slowly lowered his head to the soft mattress covered with a maroon flannel sheet, closing his eyes for the last time. Crying, we all said goodbye and urged him to float on, and we each placed a hand on his heart which was still beating slowly. The doctor then began the infusion of anesthesia into the needle placed in a vein of his right hind leg. A small patch of hair had been shaved and that hair was stowed in a small wooden urn kept on hand for that purpose. With our hands we could feel his heart slow and then peacefully cease its motion. He did not take a final deep breath as is sometimes experienced. His heart simply stopped beating and his respirations halted. Beautifully, a single tear formed at the outer corner of his left eye, fully visible to the three of us, and we wept as this lone tear increased in size and then streaked down his lovely orange face. The muscles around his nose were the only ones which twitched for a minute or so, almost as if he was getting a last scent of this earth which he so loved.

Taking her leave, the very sensitive vet exited quietly, and we were left to tend Sparkey's beloved body in private. Rene brushed him down, and gathered some of the fur. We also cut some of his hairs from several places with a pair scissors. I fetched Tina from our neighbors and brought her to see her brother's body. Wrapping him in the chosen fabric, we carried him to the grave, lowered him in gently, each took a turn kissing his head, and tucked him in, his spine gracefully curved, his front paws below his chin. The three sticks, Rene's wisdom teeth, and the bone were placed in the grave, and some of Woody's ashes were rubbed into the fur over Sparkey's heart by each of us in turn. Finally, covering his head and face, we then took turns putting handfuls of dirt over his shrouded body. One of the most difficult things I have ever done was gently place a shovelful of dirt over what I knew to be Sparkey's head. It was at that moment that I knew he was gone forever and would never return. Rene assisted me in completing this task of closure, and we then had our private family time around the grave, Tina at our side.

His body is now resting in the earth, his soul free to run with his friends old and new, and we give thanks for this loyal companion who loved us so unconditionally. His grave is now our sanctuary, and we will tend it with as much love as he tended our home and lives.

Sparkey's body is dead. Long live Sparkey's spirit.

Namaste.

Love to Sparkey From Uncle Kenny

2006-09-02T08:51:00.000-04:00

Sparkey, your Uncle Kenny, Aunt Barbara, cousin Adam, and cousin Sabina love you very much. You have been a part of our lives for almost as long as Adam has been alive. We have pictures of you on our refrigerator, pictures of you in our family photo albums, and a wonderful video that Adam made of you last year. Most important of all, we all have an image of you in our hearts- you as a puppy running alongside Keith's car as we raced around the track at the university near town, you with Tina on those many walks around the Hollow, you lying near the Franklin stove in the winter keeping warm, lovingly licking our faces as we said hello to you, you patiently lying still as the iv fluids filled you with life. You have lived your life well Sparkey, a life full of love and dedication to your family and of love and caring for your sister Tina. You have touched so many people with those beautiful, soft, and seemingly all-knowing eyes. You were Rene's constant companion, and then when Rene moved away, Keith and Mary's constant and loving friend. It's sad to know that you are leaving us my dear Bobby. You have been so brave during this past year, dealing with constant pain, and eating when you probably felt that you didn't want to eat. But it is time for you to leave this earth Sparkey and go to a better place, where there is no pain. You will live on in our hearts and in our memories, where you will be chasing squirrels, playing in the snow, and giving us wet licks of love. You were the first dog that we grew to love, and we will always remember you Sparkey. You are the best dog a family could have ever hoped to have. We feel so lucky to have been part of your life. We love you Sparkey. Be happy and go serenely to that better place. You will live on.

Love, your Uncle Kenny

Grist for the Mill of Surrender

2006-09-01T16:55:00.000-04:00

Today is Sparkey's last full day on Earth, and we've spent the day doing that which would bring him pleasure and ease.

After a quiet morning at home, we walked the one minute stroll down to our neighborhood pond and set up shop with blankets, water, snacks, and camera, a small rainbow smiling down upon us for over an hour, a Great Blue Heron standing meditatively in the reeds. A number of friendly neighbors happened by and wished Sparkey bon voyage. Even our favorite mail carrier who always brings our dogs special treats---even treats wrapped with shiny ribbon on Christmas---stopped and said goodbye. It was sweetly sad, and Sparkey seemed to take it all in stride, going down to the water's edge every half hour or so to drink pond water and eat tender shoots of grass. We must have taken 100 photographs, some of which will make their way to Latter Day Sparks in the weeks and months to come.

Unbeknownst to us, Sparkey even snuck out of the house this morning when Mary left the door propped open for a moment, and our neighbor saw him out her window and brought him home. She felt very clearly that he had performed that little maneuver so that he could will her to look out her window and see him, allowing them to connect one last time. She and he have a long history of running into one another during Sparkey's great escapes, and he seems to always enjoy the process.

A short trip to our little town yielded some sweet time in a small downtown park that we frequent with the dogs, each of us taking turns scooping water out of the fountain, letting the dogs drink from our cupped hands. Sparkey kept nudging Tina out of the way in order to keep drinking. Some sweet treats from the local bakery piqued Sparkey's interest to some extent, but not as much as a small outdoor covered container set up with water and cat food for some downtown strays. He made a bee-line for the container, put his head inside, and helped himself to some stinky wet cat food. What could I do? He had his fill and we mosied along.

Now we will while away the hours of the evening. A dear friend was going to help me dig a grave in the front yard this evening in preparation for tomorrow, but that has now been postponed so that our son and I can do that task together in the morning, rain or shine. Rene will roll into town later tonight in order to spend a final night with his childhood pal. I wish we could post photos from the days when Sparkey was a pup and Rene was a little tow-headed nine-year-old, but we don't have a scanner. Maybe we'll borrow one.....

We cry intermittently, sometimes feeling OK, sometimes not. At times, the reality of what will happen tomorrow hits one of us, we realize that the hours together with Sparkey are ticking away, and we feel a wave of grief as well as somatic feelings of nausea and lightheadedness. It's a strange feeling of waiting, dread, grief, joy, relief, and disbelief. This creature has made himself part and parcel of our souls, and his departure from our midst seems somehow impossible. A childlike part of my mind keeps playing tricks, hoping that the vet will somehow decide that he's OK, or he'll make some miraculous recovery overnight. Ths morning, he was on our bed, head hanging off the side in a way that he would never usually do, and I thought he had peacefully died in his sleep. I found myself looking at him, hoping that that might be the case, but was also so very glad to see his bony chest rise and fall.

So many feelings, so many sensations. This being human is physically and emotionally draining and simultaneously wondrous. We all know that grief lessens with time, but I feel that this is really going to be a long one. There will be so many reminders---every day---and although it will get easier over time, my soul is just so very deeply connected with that furry creature who we call Sparkey.

I breathe deeply now, steadying my mind and stomach and heart, and hold him in my mind's eye as he rests in the next room. A number of people have looked Sparkey in the eyes in the last two days and acknowledged that, yes, he is uncomfortable and ready to go, supporting our decision and praising us for doing the right thing. Even a stranger at the park today said, "He looks uncomfortable". We know this is right, but at the same time nothing can make it right. It just is, and we're here together by choice. I truly believe that Sparkey is a member of my soul family, and our connection will continue on. Letting go is a lesson in this life, and here is one more piece of grist for that venerable mill of release and surrender.

So be it.

---Keith

Sparkey, the Lost Puppy

2006-09-01T09:47:00.000-04:00

Here is how Sparkey first came into my arms, and into our lives and hearts, forever...

Downtown was the Firemens' Pancake Breakfast...an annual outdoor autumn event and a bright light in the sad ole city where we work. Fire engines were proudly shinin' brightly in their reds with kids climbing up and down the ladders guided by the big arms of smiling firefighters. Smoke from the pancake grills was lifting artfully into the air, carrying the tittilating aroma of pancakes, reaching the nostrils of many humans and canines alike. Children were jumping and screaming with glee in their light little bodies. Colorful balloons danced on their strings as if they were trying to free themselves and fly over the whole, happy affair.

At the time, I was a social worker and advocate doing AIDS education and community outreach. And there I was at the Pancake Breakfast, a huge outdoor event, hosting a table alongside fire trucks and other service providers, welcoming people who took interest in the info. Mostly, I was an observing participant whose heart was warmed by such a classic, fun, family event. I remember feeling good that I was getting paid to be there as all my original resistance to working on a Saturday simply dissolved.

As I took the scene in, I looked across the way and noticed something orange and alive, about the size of a bread box, darting crazily around, quickly telling the story, "I'm a puppy, a wild little puppy, and I have gotten away". I stood up and called out to the puppy, opening my arms wide, coaxing the cutest thing I ever saw over to me. When we locked eyes, he came a-runnin', no, barreling over to me like we had been best friends who parted and were, at long last, reuniting. When he reached me, this little creature leapt into my arms and proceeded to lick my face until his nibbles between licks were sufficient for us both. While I would love to have taken this boy (yes, boy) home, I knew I needed to help him find his people and vise versa. So, with a make-shift string leash and a big sign, I set out to help reunite this dog to his family. I asked everyone I could if they knew if someone had lost their puppy. No one had a clue, so I parked the pup under my table, gave him some water, propped up the lost pup sign, and waited, secretly hoping that he was indeed a stray. After all, we had just moved to a house in the country with a huge fenced-in back yard that bordered conservation land, at the base of a small mountain which made for great daily hiking. My colleagues and I compared notes to see who had the best set-up and I was the lucky winner, hands down. They encouraged me to take the boy home, which was all the encouragement I needed before packing my stuff up, including the adorable puppy dog. Didn't dare call home first---my strategy was to simply introduce the little dog in person and take it from there...(Not to worry, dear reader, soon after my lucky find, I contacted the MSPCA with a found puppy notice, as well as a special lost and found radio program, and not a soul responded).

When it came time to hop up into my car, this cute puppy hesitated and it took lots of coaxing to assure him it'd be alright. The little guy was so exhausted that he crashed right out in the back seat of my car, on his back, legs completely splayed out...What a character, i thought, and then I noticed how he either peed or threw up en route upon our arrival to home. I called ahead to tell our then 9-year old son Rene' that I was coming home with a great surprize--and i instructed him to be in the bedroom with his Dad, Keith, with the door closed. Rene' went along with the plan, not even knowing who or what was to come, but he believed me when I said it would make him very, very, very happy.

As I entered our house with the pup securely in my arms, all was quiet and serene, bedroom door closed...I hollered out, "Are you ready for the surprize?" and I heard a resounding chorus of "Yes". I then let the puppy down, ran to the door, opened it and yelled, "Surprize!" and in charged the puppy who proceded to leap right onto the bed to meet and greet the rest of his new family. Within minutes of the bliss fest that followed, we knew he'd always be with us, and we immediately set out to give the boy a name..."Happy" was the runner-up name, but because he arrived fresh from the Firemans' Pancake Breakfast, we all agreed that Sparkey, who was indeed as sparkly as a sparkler, was the perfect name for who would become the epitome of a great dog, a dog's dog, an only brother to our only child, and our forever baby, Sparkey D. Dog.

~Mary
who wrote this on Sparkey's last full day on earth

Haiku for Sparkey

2006-08-31T21:03:00.000-04:00

For Sparky,

Sparky, leaving soon,

Giving all who've known you joy,

Peace awaits you now.

--anonymous friend and animal lover

Sparkey's Brother, Gallagher

2006-08-31T17:45:00.000-04:00

It may be hard to believe but this is Sparkey's practically twin brother (not Sparkey himself with an upright ear moment!). This is the ever so gallant Gallagher, aka Cute Boy. I received the sad news just days ago that Gallagher died unexpectedly in his back yard. His owner, Lois, me, and and our mutual vet all thought that Cute Boy would outlive Sparkey...but Sparks will have outlived his litter-mate by a few weeks...Through the animal communicator, we reminded Sparkey about his brother, whom he remembered had a "spicey smell"and we asked Gallagher to help greet Sparkey. Its clear that Cute Boy is already having a blast and will gladly romp with his bio bro.

With blessings from Sparkey's aunt, I have included the moving story of Cute Boy's passage and powerful tributes after...

much love from our hurtin' and grateful hearts,

mary

hi mary - i have to let you know gallagher died quite suddenly a week ago saturday. (the anniversary of my dad dying too) he was quite fine during the day, went for a nice long walk, was playful with martin, hearty appetite, lots of cuddling. then later in the evening i noticed he was kind of panting, but i didn't think too much about it except that it seemed odd. he went outside, which is normal, the door is always open with screen flaps to come and go as they please. also not unusual to not come back in when i go to bed. but what was unusual, was at 6 a.m., he always barks a loud, sharp, single, wake-up bark, to announce i need to be getting up to feed them. but i didn't hear it, and suddenly had a sinking feeling, and got up on my bed and looked out the window and saw him laying on the lawn and not responding when i called tohim. he was stiff when i got downstairs, so i suspect he'd had a heart attack. heartbroken, i was not terribly functional last week. i did put up a flyer at our village coop, and had a memorial service for him yesterday in the pouring rain. some 20+ people showed up. even some folks i don't know, but had stories to tell me about how gallagher affected them. he was known as the mayor of dudleyville. my brother helped me bury him, and i planted an empire apple tree atop. one person brought some of the ashes of her dog, who was one of gallagher's first playmates, and put on his grave. i laminated a particularly regal picture of gallagher, where he is wearing a black bow tie, and titled it, "the mayor of dudleyville". i glued on a plastic top hat and cane. i also planted some mums and azaleas, and created a rather nice garden space. i had a scrapbook of pictures and people wrote in their sentiments. one person wrote a 3 page poem. i served cookies made in the shape of dogs and dog bones, and had quite a memorial service. it is all over now, but i feel blessed to have been the recipient of the gift of gallagher, as you are of sparkey. i hope you are all well.

lois

The Pain of Clarity

2006-08-30T22:21:00.000-04:00

On the tail of our conversation with the vet yesterday, today's process involved a telephone "reading" with an animal communciator who's been assisting us since Sparkey left the hospital. The result of that conversation is that we're now very clear that Sparkey wants to go and is ready to transition out of his body. If you cannot suspend your disbelief that we were actually able to tap into such information, suffice it to say that we now feel comfortable that the time has come, and we now have to steel ourselves for the task at hand, sad as it may be.

Our priority is Sparkey's comfort and the avoidance of unnecessary suffering on his part. We know that what he would face in the coming months is increasing debilitation, eventual complete loss of the use of his hind legs, and utter kidney failure. Even today he would not get up from the floor for the local dogwalker to take him out to pee in the mid-afternoon, and we're now using an adaptive sling to keep his hindquarters elevated. Still, he's eating well and drinking lots of water, readily accepting most treats proferred.

Now we begin to prepare the logistics---beyond the emotional preparation---for Sparkey's physical departure from our midst. Tina will actually be in the home of a loving neighbor well before the vet arrives to our home on Saturday morning in order to spare her the trauma and anxiety that the vet's appearance inevitably causes her. The most appropriate place for the vet to administer the anesthesia seems to be the screened-in porch where the dogs spends a great deal of their time, looking out at the boggy hollow beside our house, 150-foot white pines standing guard over the house.

His body's final resting place will be just to the side of the house in a sweet spot edged by three young rhododendron plants whose roots have already been fertilized with the ashes of our dear friend Woody who died in 2001. Woody and Sparkey had many adventures together, running at breakneck speed through the woods together, returning to our home bloodied, limping, and ecstatic. Some of those jaunts with Woody could leave Sparkey exhausted for several days, but he always seemed to revel in that well-earned exhaustion. There's a fitting poetry that Sparkey's body will share some soil with Woody's ashes, just as one of Sparkey's puppy teeth and one of our son's baby teeth are buried with Woody's urn in a Connecticut graveyard overlooking a rushing stream.

Writing about this process seems both unreal and somehow grounding. Simultaneous and conflicting emotions emerge. How can we choose to willfully end the life of this sentient being who still walks (sort of), eats, breathes, drinks, and shows affection (to a limited degree)? What right do we have to make that decision? What responsiblity do we have to facilitate a peaceful leave-taking? The answers now seem clear, although that clarity is painful to the eyes and the heart. It is also apparent in his eyes. According to the animal communicator, he's ready, and has been for some weeks. Even Tina knows. It was obvious to the vet yesterday, and for this reason ---based upon years of experience---she knows that the time has come.

We've already shed many tears, and I can't see any end to those tears right now, but I know that the pain will lessen with time. Imagining wrapping him in a sheet, lowering his body into the ground, and actually covering that body with dirt----this all seems so improbable, otherworldly, meant for another time, another place. But my conscience knows that the time and place are now and we are the players who have to fulfill our roles, as much as we feel that the rehearsals are far too brief and the playwrite cruel at best.

That said, Sparkey will sail from his body and be freed from the limitation of physical embodiment, and we'll stay behind to tend his grave, water the flowers that will bloom there, and honor his memory and spirit that will not die with his tired old shell, his ageing vehicle.

I expect a wide range of emotions over the next few days, on Saturday morning, and for days, months, and years to come. We just have to let those emotions wash over us like so many waves, and just keep breathing, even as Sparkey's breathing ceases altogether.

Please pray for us on Saturday morning---or any time---and know that your thoughts and prayers will be felt by all of us, magnified by the love and compassion that they reflect.

---Keith

Loving Sparkey

2006-08-29T22:59:00.000-04:00

Until one has loved an animal,
a part of one's soul remains unawakened.

---Anatole France

The vet visited Sparkey at home around one in the afternoon and called me about 3:30 on my cellphone. I was at work, and it was my turn to clean the office kitchen. She gave me her report, detailing the muscle wasting, hind leg atrophy, disequilibrium and cognitive deficits that she observed, as well as the ongoing renal failure. Just as she began to recommend that we strongly consider euthanasia, a coworker walked in and distracted me, my eyes beginning to fill with tears. I left the kitchen, cellphone clutched to my ear, and made my way to a quiet corner, sitting at one of the doctor's desks, photos of children grinning from the bulletin board as I fiddled with pens and paperclips during the continued conversation with the vet.

Taking into consideration that the kidney failure will only get worse, and Sparkey's physical disability become more of a burden for him and us, she gently advocated for us to euthanize him before something bad happens. The way she explained it, if his kidneys blow---and they could at any moment---he'll vomit and retch uncontrollably and suffer a horrific plethora of symptoms. With his hind legs like they are, we're also running the risk of him experiencing an injury or fracture---likely while we're at work---that will cause him terrible suffering. Euthanizing him while in acute pain or organ failure would be much less comfortable for him and a terrible way for us to say goodbye to our loyal friend and family member.

The vet counseled me that we have gone above and beyond, providing home hospice care with a nightly IV for more than four months, more than many people would do. She urged me to not second-guess what we could have done better, and to rest my mind in the certainty that we have given Sparkey a loving home and the best care we could manage. She assured me that he is not yet in great pain, just uncomfortable, and the most humane thing to do is allow him to leave with dignity and without undue suffering. I told her that we would consult our animal communicator in the morning by phone, and follow up with her in 24 hours. We agreed that the appointment which we so strongly hesitate to make could take place at our home on Saturday morning, four days hence.

Tearful, face quivering, I retreated to my desk in the corner of the office, and was consoled by three different co-workers, who hugged me and offered their own experiences and stories, which were simultaneously comforting and frightening. I fled the office, leaving my desk a mess, and drove over to Mary's office where I gave her the news. We both cried on and off in the car, stopping by our previous vet's place to pick up IV supplies. One of the lovely and compassionate vet technicians at that office who loves Sparkey and really sees his soul took us into a private office and counseled us in our despair and confusion. She was saintly in the attention she gave us, and we are forever grateful for her kindness and largesse.

The ride home called for a stop at Friendly's, kid-size coffee Fribbles for us and a dish of vanilla ice cream for Sparkey. When the going gets tough, the tough eat ice cream.

It's going to take a few days to integrate this, to come to terms with the reality, and to accept what we have to do. While deciding to end an animal's life in a medical manner may seem unnatural, the domestication of animals is also somewhat unnatural and we must bear the full responsibility of their care, and often the timing of their death. My heart feels like it's breaking tonight, but perhaps that breaking does not have to be seen as injury, rather, it's an opening, an opportunity for even more compassion to be experienced, whether I want that experience or not.

---Keith

Attachment

2006-08-28T23:08:00.000-04:00

Attachment is what it is. Attachment to how things are. Attachment to the present, even as the present slips into the past. Sparkey is a symbol of the life we have lived for fourteen years---the majority of our seventeen years of marriage---and the loyal mascot and guide who has seen us through so much---so knowingly, so quietly, so regally.

I am attached to his smell, the feeling of his fur against my leg, that pointy spot on the top of his head, his wet nose, his soulful eyes and determined eagerness to be outdoors, prancing in the leaves, water, and grass. His paws often smell like the sweetest, earthiest musk, and his presence has always been a source of calm---through nursing school, Mary's grad school days, Rene's transition from childhood into adulthood, the murder and soul-wrenching loss of our best family friend in 2001. He's always been there. And now we're there for him as he prepares to leave, and I am finally beginning to let go.

You can go now, Sparks. It's been a job well done, a life well lived. You can let go and know that you were the best dog you could be and brought so much joy to many. Be free.

---Keith

Rainy Sunday

2006-08-27T21:45:00.000-04:00

The rain has been soaking the earth most of the day. It's late evening, and I just finished Sparkey's IV. We were hanging out upstairs and he joined us, and now seems hesitant to go back down. He's been making it up to the second floor on his own recently, but going down is most problematic, like he just can't put on the brakes. I've taken to carrying him both up and down the stairs most of the time, and sometimes carry him to the house from the driveway when he just seems too tired or reluctant. I take a break from writing and carry him down. Mary's convincing him to go for a walk.

Mary feels that he just isn't having much fun anymore and I must agree. We'll be consulting the animal communicator soon, and the vet will be here Tuesday to give us her input. When I think of euthanizing Sparkey, I feel a queasy feeling in my stomach. How to say goodbye under those circumstances? Do we cook him a last supper? When is the right time? Do I dig the grave before or after? Should our son be here or not? It's overwhelming and sad. I'm at a loss.

---Keith

Reality Check

2006-08-25T20:44:00.000-04:00

We've asked the vet to come to the house to assess Sparkey. She'll be coming on Tuesday while we're at work. Sparkey's ability to walk on his hind legs is diminishing and we think the time is near for him to be freed from the confines of his body. I came to terms with that harsh reality on a walk around the block this evening after work, Sparkey scraping the top of his right hind paw along the ground, his little bootie falling apart at the seams. It's pathetic, and perhaps our hanging on is also pathetic, if not just plain sad.

Old friends from DC came to visit overnight last night with their lovely little girls. These two friends kept Sparkey with them in Maryland for one month in 1999 when we were in Europe. We had previously had their big black Lab---Zimbra---for a year while they were on their honeymoon in the mid-90's. We have been very soulfully connected to one anothers' dogs and children over the years, and they knew that this visit with Sparkey was definitely good-bye. Old Zimbra---Sparkey's former housemate for a year---left this earth a few years ago, beloved as always. Our friend Paul told us the story of finding Zimbra dead in the living room one early morning, and I verbalized our desire that this would be our fate with Sparkey, but we know for certain that this will most likely simply not be. He will need our help, and soon. Ah, me.

Sogyal Rinpoche shares:

At every moment in our lives we need compassion, but what more urgent moment could there be than when we are dying? What more wonderful and consoling gift could you give to dying people [or animals] than the knowledge that they are being prayed for, and that you are taking on their suffering and purifying their negative karma through your practice for them?

Even if they don’t know that you are practicing for them, you are helping them and in turn they are helping you. They are actively helping you to develop your compassion, and so to purify and heal yourself. For me, all dying people [or creatures] are teachers, giving to all those who help them a chance to transform themselves through developing their compassion.

---Keith

From Lord Mountbatten

2006-08-24T18:55:00.000-04:00

This note from our trusty dog-walker Dave awaited us after work today:

"Hi-Lo-Lo---Here I am again. Sparkey was a bit slow to rouse today, and still wobbly. But we did get him out and about. He must have gotten into the likker cabinet again. And I thought I was the only one. Nothing much else to report. Have a good nite. -----Lord Mountbatten"

How Long?

2006-08-23T22:01:00.000-04:00

Sparkey seems slightly more debilitated every day. He's really dragging his hind legs, eschewing food as often as he's accepting it, sleeping most of the time. We are now beginning to wonder how long to let this go on, how long to allow him to be in this state.

We ask ourselves if he is still experiencing any pleasure in life. Does he feel pain? Does he still want the IV and the meds? Are we being selfish by prolonging his life or are we allowing him to live out his days in relative comfort? How long is long enough? Do we allow him to get to the point where he can no longer walk at all and then make that decision?

We are wrestling with these questions daily now and praying, hoping, asking for an answer from him, from the Goddess, from God, from the ethers, from our souls.

How long is long enough?

---Keith

2006-08-20T11:01:00.000-04:00

Hello, its Mary, Sparkey's finder, rescuer, and pack mother. I am pokin' my head in and making a rare appearance--visible to others, that is.

After Keith's last and deeply moving post, I knew it was time to return here myself. I know I have been remiss in writing, but i do visit Sparkey's blog daily...i suppose i haven't been into writing but lately i have been feeling the itch to share some Sparkey stories...Most importantly is the love that is shared among our pack, and i treasure each and every day we have with the 4 and often 5 of us all together.

I promise to post some happy stories, but today i am experiencing the sadness of loss regarding our loyal old pal--the loss of his senses, his agile physical abilities, his avid and voracious appetite, those buff muscles keith referred to, and our adventures in the great outdoors---Sparkey's favorite place in the whole wide world. This morning he refused to lick Keith's yogurt container and he barely sniffed with dim interest at a huge beef jerky strip that, in healthier days, he would have fought to secure for himself. It was as though he was telling me that he wanted to want this treat, but he is just too weak to rally. I understood and stashed it for later within his visual range, assuring him that it is his for later...A bit after Tina devoured hers, I offered this special treat again to Bob, and he managed to slowly relish the beef jerky. He's now returned to sleep--and is quite the deep napper these latter days.

I am reminded by his deep sleeps how much work it can be to prepare for death, the great passage, and that this is precisely what his body is doing, like that song Old Man River, but without the fear. Sparkey is doing this so well, and he will forever be an example to me.

I have some fears though, questions that plague me like, will he suffer? will we be there to end his suffering? will the doctor be able to make it on time? will Rene? how devestating will Spark's death and post death absence be on Keith? on Rene? Somehow I fancy that I will be fine, just fine...which of course is a red flag and I am thus awakened from a pervasive denial that I've been running... Its no wonder that i have been somewhat stoic and even avoidant...I have refused to do Sparkey's IV--and rarely participate in it when i could be there for both Keith and Sparkey during the process. Keith has been a saint in this regard, and I have been a coward, and coward is a word that does not fit with how i see myself, yet here i am, guilty as charged, and for this I am sorry, Keith and Sparkey. I think I have been avoiding feeling the pain that has now caught up to me. Please forgive me, you two, and as you see, Keith, I have my limits, and rather than stretch beyond them as is my usual MO, I have slinked out on you both. Again, please forgive me for copping out in this important, life-saving daily ritual.

While I have been a pathetic wimp in regards to the IV, I am still Spark's pack mom, and he will always be my boy. I know he can't hear me crying right now, or he would begin pacing and personalizing my distress. Usually Tina comes to the emotional rescue to comfort someone who is feeling sad, but even my girl is deep in slumber on this cloudy August morning. I hear the rustling of Rene in the kitchen and will rally to provide a dog day afternoon for us all...

~Mary

The Ink of Love and Loyalty

2006-08-20T01:57:00.000-04:00

Tonight I taught our son Rene how to give Sparkey his IV. We will be away for a weekend in September and Rene will care for the dogs and house. We never expected Sparkey to be around for September, and are now reluctant to leave him with anyone except for Rene, his brother and pack member for fourteen years.

Since Rene will only need to do the IV once, I didn't show him how to spike the bag, prime the drip chamber, and other prep. He will simply have a pre-prepared bag ready to go since I will do the IV on Friday morning before work and then again on Sunday night when we return. Saturday night will be for the two boys---the canine and the human.

Rene took in the instructions easily, grasping the concepts immediately. After some guiding words, he lifted the scruff, found the sweet spot, inserted the needle, and opened the line, the solution flowing readily and quickly. Holding the bag up, he squeezed mightily for about seven minutes as the solution flowed into Sparkey's subcutaneous space.

During the treatment, I explained kidney function, kidney failure, and dialysis. We discussed Sparkey's symptoms and what we might expect down the road and what symptoms might force our hand. We kissed Sparkey, fed him his pills wrapped in sliced turkey breast, then plied him with ice cream as a chaser. He took it all in stride and turned up his nose when he had had his fill.

Just now---I am writing at 1 A.M.---Sparkey woke, left the downstairs bedroom where he was sleeping with Rene, drank some water noisily from the toilet, and then loped up the stairs to join Mary and Tina in the upstairs bedroom. He tripped and faltered a few times, and I ran to the bottom of the stairs to assist, but he made it to the summit on his own and disappeared into the darkness of the second-floor hallway, and into the room where Mary and Tina slumber. He doesn't seem to mind that we are itinerant sleepers, moving from room to room based on temperature, weather, and how many houseguests are currently ensconced.

I will so miss that boy when he goes. He was---and always will be---my first dog. He is loyal, attentive, affectionate (less now than before, of course), predictable yet surprising, simple yet deep, soulful, animal yet strangely human. His eyes convey so much, and I watch him watch us, his dulled senses still keen to assess our moods, our intentions, our patterns of behavior. He can no longer hear us say, "Wanna go for a walk outside?" He watches our movements, obviously refraining from getting up until he's sure. Mary discovered months ago that loud and sharp clapping is the best signal to let him know that our intention is clear and a walk is imminent. Two claps and he's lumbering for the door.

Rene marveled at the insubstantiality of Sparkey's hindquarters. We used to say that his hips and butt were so muscular and developed, it made you want to just take a big affectionate bite. Now, bones protrude and the muscle mass is gone, the hindquarters weak and atrophied. Rene also marveled at the way the 1/2-liter of IV fluid infused into Sparkey's scruff hung over his neck like Quasimodo's hump. The Hunchdog of Notre Casa. Rene looked Sparks deep in the eyes. Sparkey reciprocated by kissing Rene's nose.

It's a bond like no other. It's a level of trust between human and animal which dates back millenia. While we don't hunt and gather or protect the cave from predators, we rely on one another and live a symbiotic existence which binds our souls together, cleaves our lives into a domestic whole.

The hole which will be left by Sparkey's eventual departure will be gaping, but he will live in our hearts, his life and its innocent dedication to us inscribed in indelible ink. It is the ink of love and loyalty, and the narrative which it writes is an age-old story. We are living that tale, and we breathe in each moment, welcoming the fact that this is yet another moment in love together on this earth. May we all see how that ink of love fills the pages of our lives, making a mark worthy of remembrance and gratitude for a life well lived.

---Keith

A Day in the Life.....

2006-08-18T19:58:00.000-04:00

We had a walk around the block while Mary was at the gym after work. ("Curves for Women", that is.) Sparkey had rest on his mind, so we had two relatively long stops along the way. The mail-carrier gave us treats, and then while we rested in front of the mailboxes, a neighbor---or rather a woman who works in a group home for disabled individuals across from our driveway---also came bearing canine snacks.

Either sensing that Mary would be home soon, or just enjoying watching the action on our somewhat bucolic street, Sparkey insisted that we sit on the grass at the side of the road until Mary arrived. Tina would have been happy to run home and fall asleep on the porch, but no such luck today. Thankfully, Mary did not keep us waiting long.

(BTW, please see my other blog for an account of my day prior to coming home to the beloved canines.)

Lucky for me (and said hounds), we discovered a meat outlet near our workplaces yesterday and had the fortune to purchase pre-cooked frozen meatballs and burgers en masse. This translates into no barbecuing for Keith, and a nice change of culinary pace for Bob and The Girl. Can you beat that?

Just a day in the life, folks....

---Keith

Small Joys

2006-08-17T21:35:00.000-04:00

Other dog people might understand this sentiment. Especially since Sparkey has been ailing, I find great pleasure in very small things regarding the old guy.

The other day, he and I were coming back from a walk with Tina and he pulled his usual stunt of sitting down at the driveway (which is about 200 feet from our house), making it obvious that he wanted to hang out for a while. If I was on my way to work, this would be inconvenient, but since it was a day off, I tied him to the lamp-post and walked back to the house with Tina, who is always eager to come home just in case a treat might manifest itself.

After about 30 minutes, I took a few treats, a small container of water, and my current novel down to the driveway, taking advantage of the fact that I had nowhere to go and nothing to do. Sparks didn't hear me coming as I sat down beside him on the ground. Feeding him treats and then offering him the bowl of water, I kept my face quite close to his and reveled in the sounds of his munching and slurping and swallowing, licking his chops (and my nose) after he had had his fill.

Although we have always taken great pleasure from the small antics and habits of our canine companions, at this particular moment---perhaps because it was my birthday and I was relaxingly spending the day alone with the dogs---this moment of connecting with Sparkey over snacks and water was memorable and remarkable. Just the sensual experience of hearing and watching him imbibe some nourishment was enough to give me some worthy moments of simple pleasure.

Is this strange to a non-dog person who sees dogs as simply animals? Perhaps. But to a person who loves dogs or any animals, these simple moments can be almost transcendent.

Treats, anyone?

---Keith

It's In the Numbers

2006-08-15T21:56:00.000-04:00

So today---my birthday---is day 120 since Sparkey left the ICU. That means 120 doses of IV fluids. That's 60,000 cc's---60 liters---of Lactated Ringers Solution under his skin! What a trooper! What troopers we all are!

Any votes for 120 more? (Tina votes yes, as long as the BBQ'd chicken keeps coming!)

---Keith

On the Town

2006-08-14T18:36:00.000-04:00

Today we went on an outing to town, giving the dogs time at the ol' swimming hole, our favorite CD store, the local collective pinko-commie bookstore (where he received an overwhelming welcome), and our favorite ice cream shop. Sparkey had what I consider his personal favorite flavor (not Cherry Red, for you Rolling Stones fans) but old-fashioned vanilla. Tina partook as well, but a significantly smaller serving for the little "Barrel-on-Sticks". The compassionate and kind ice cream staff also served up cold water, much to the dogs' needful delight.

Overall, a sucessful trip to town, and no one the worse for wear after treats, exercise, a swim, and seeing old friends.

---Keith

Did You Say Vegetarian?

2006-08-13T19:18:00.000-04:00

This vegetarian household has always made an exception for its canine occupants, buying canned and dry dogfood in enormous quantities over the years. While some may try to raise vegetarian dogs, we're of the mind that naturally carnivorous domesticated animals should be given the diet to which they are naturally accustomed. And since Sparkey's Easter illness, as he began to earnestly eschew his regular diet, I have grown quite expert at grilling tender vittles to titillate his taste buds (and Tina's, by extension).

Speaking of Tina, when Sparks eventually does go to Doggie Heaven, I'm not planning to continue my canine culinary accomplishments, and Tina will need to be weaned off of this luxurious diet towards a more affordable and less labor intensive cuisine. However, if she ever becomes as ill as Sparkey, she can rest assured that we will care for her with equally tender loving care, with a menu to match.

Nevertheless, I must say that when these dogs have had occasion to swallow a tofu dog or veggie burger, they've never seemed to balk at the cellulose origins of said offerings, and in fact seem to favor certain brands.

Now back to the grill....

---Keith

Wisdom of the Buddha

2006-08-11T06:53:00.000-04:00

This missive is from a daily meditation which I receive by email each morning, selected by Sogyal Rinpoche, who wrote The Tibetan Book of Living and Dying. You can subscribe to this excellent daily email here.

This existence of ours is as transient as autumn clouds
To watch the birth and death of beings is like looking at the movements of a dance.
A lifetime is like a flash of lightning in the sky,
Rushing by, like a torrent down a steep mountain. ----Buddha

---Keith

Ravenous for Life

2006-08-09T22:07:00.000-04:00

Ravenous for life. Yes, the zest is still there, lame legs and failing kidneys be damned!

Last night was a visit to friends, described in the previous post. Tonight was a trip to town to have a picnic with a friend who starts a new job and career as a nurse tomorrow. Sparkey was very interested in a few other dogs, actually played and made a show of machismo with a young Border Collie, ate cheese, tortillas, dog food, and anything else on offer (except for fried plaintains) and has since collapsed on the dining room floor after I carried him from the car to the front porch. The poor guy is exhausted.

It seems as if we're just packing in the good times while Sparkey is still mobile and game for some adventure. We try not to push him too hard, but also try to provide him with interesting, varied, and enjoyable experiences that involve people, food, cars, walks, water, more food, dogs, and even more food, not to mention food. I am not in sufficient enough denial to see his ravenous eating as anything but symptoms of protein loss via his failing kidneys, but my Inner Jewish Mother (I.J.M.) loves to watch him eat, and that same I.J.M. is crestfallen when he turns up his nose at perfectly good vittles.

We'll keep the missives coming, keep documenting Sparkey's days, and hope that summer will turn into autumn and this golden boy will have a chance to once again lay in the crunchy golden maple leaves which match his coat so nicely. We know that this is his final summer (based upon the prognosis and common sense), and thus also assume that this autumn will be his last experience of that season as well. If he actually sees the winter, then that will be a triumph indeed.

All that aside, we'll just continue to take it one day at a time, thank you.

---Keith

We Go A-Visitin'

2006-08-08T23:23:00.000-04:00

Tonight we visited the home of dear friends who recently lost a dog who I have previously described as a friend to both Sparkey and Tina. "Stanley" is buried in a secluded spot behind their home, and Mary and I paid our respects, leaving echinacea flowers in a small vase to commemorate our visit. Tina also came by, sniffed the grave, and poked her nose in Stanley's bowl which marks his resting place.

Over a lovely grilled dinner, we reminisced with our friends about our dogs as Sparkey and Tina lay nearby, comfortable and at peace in a house which is like their second home and where they are always welcomed with love and affection. The missing piece was Stanley, but his spirit can still be felt.

Sparkey's skinny skeletal self seemed to surprise one of our friends, but his spirit never changes. We remembered puppy-ish antics played out with our children who are now adults, and the joy that having a dog brought to our kids' lives. Now our kids must grapple with the deaths of beloved canine friends. Such is life.

All in all, a lovely evening, another walk down Memory Lane for Sparkey, and another reminder that each day with him and Tina is a day to be grateful for.

Amen. Amen? Adog.

---Keith

The Head Tilt

2006-08-06T19:33:00.000-04:00

Sparkey has always been well-known for his retention of that most puppyish and endearing habit---the head-tilt-while-listening. The photo at left illustrates a classic example of such, circa May, 2005.

He would always reliably tilt his head from side to side in response to his favorite questions said with a marked questioning uplift at the end, obviously trying to divine the meaning of our question and the authenticity of the offer:

Do you want to go for a walk outside?
Do you want a treat?
Do you want to go for a ride in the car?
Do you want me to dial the number for you?

Alas, the head-tilt is a phenomenon of the past, but his cuteness is not diminished. Au countraire! He is more endearing by the day.

---Keith

Still Breathing

2006-08-05T10:50:00.000-04:00

Just about every morning, I wake up and look over at Sparkey sprawled on the floor and try to see if he's still breathing. Sometimes his respirations seem so shallow, I have to put my hand on his bony rib-cage just to be sure.

While we would hope that Sparks will at some point simply die painlessly in his sleep, wandering off to the spirit world from his rich dream world, we've been informed fairly clearly that his heart is quite strong and he may very well eventually need us to assist him in leaving his body. Being midwives to his passage will not be easy, but it's something that we're prepared to do as many pet owners have done before us.

In this culture, euthanasia of animals is accepted, legal and accessible, and having that option can preclude much needless suffering. While humans may not truly have that legal option outside of Oregon and The Netherlands, we're comforted by the fact that our vet will come to our home if the time ever comes that we have to give our best boy that blessing to go in peace.

On this beautiful summer day, I can't imagine not having Bob around, his orange fur rising and falling with his peaceful breathing, his feet twitching as he sleeps, his pointy bony head, his soulful eyes with little blonde lashes. But here we are, another day, and he awoke just like any other. We're both a little stiff, hungry and thirsty, but still ready for the day.

Still breathing.

---Keith

Old Friends

2006-08-03T21:20:00.000-04:00

Sparkey and Tina and I went over to our old neighborhood this evening to visit some sweet former neighbors, one of whom is Sparkey's canine puppyhood friend, Amos, who is one year Sparkey's junior. On the way over in the car, I opened all the windows and drove slowly through the forested roads, Tina with her head out the window, sniffing madly. Sparkey looked out the window as well, and I accompanied our ride with a running commentary of memories of the neighborhood which we left in 1999 and where the dogs spent their formative years.

Turning the corner onto the street of our destination, lo and behold, there was Amos wandering in the road. I pulled the car to a stop and called his name, Amos bounding over in a very energetic way for such an old dog. He wagged his tail and whimpered, following our car and taking a short cut across the neighbor's yard (just like the old days) and meeting us at the top of the driveway.

Amos' maternal unit greeted us warmly and the dogs were affectionate with her, obviously remembering her scent, as well as her loving demeanor. We proceeded to sit in the grass and talk over chips and salsa, the dogs thoroughly enjoying the crunchy nuttiness of the flax seed corn chips which they readily gobbled.

Unlike the old days, Sparkey and Amos didn't really play, but like old men on a porch, contemplating the winter of their lives, they watched the trees, felt the warm air of the summer night, and lay in our midst as the pack animals they truly are, obviously contented, panting, and satisfied. Even Tina has become somewhat less playful, and spent an hour or so lounging in the grass at my side, the lassitude of these extraordinarily hot August days in full control of her energy output.

A short walk down the street revealed to Amos' mum just how weak Sparks has become and how slow his dragging gait truly is. At a certain point in the walk, the leashless Sparkey simply chose to hobble up to the front porch of a very attractive and well-appointed country home and made it clear that he wanted to mount the steps and knock. Dissuading him, I donned the leash and urged him towards our friends' home and our waiting car. (This new habit of simply wandering off at will and walking up to other homes is an interesting turn of events.)

Overall, it was a successful trip down Memory Lane, and we hope to take the boy on similar outings in the next month or so, especially when the weather isn't too oppressive. After his hospitalization at Easter, we were told he might live two months, and here we are approaching 110 days since discharge from the ICU. We count our blessings and will continue to assist Sparkey in connecting with his past, seeing his loved ones and friends, and making the best of these latter days.

---Keith

Salad Days?

2006-08-02T22:12:00.000-04:00

According to dictionary.com, "salad days" means "a time of youth, innocence, and inexperience". While this definition may not hold true for Sparkey in his golden years, his predilection for fresh blades of grass as a daily dietary staple is something to behold.

Most dogs seem to only eat grass when they feel a need to vomit, a practice which I have previously deemed "Canine Ipecac", and a habit that Tina demonstrates periodically. For Sparkey, however, this herbivorous grazing has intensified since the onset of his illness, and I theorize that he intuitively knows that the grass is a tonic for his kidneys and he sets out to eat his daily fill as a way to self-medicate using what's available to him in the natural world.

I would not characterize Sparkey as youthful in the literal sense, nor would I deem him inexperienced, but he is, by nature, an innocent in this world. So, even if "salad days" is not a perfect fit, I see this time during which Sparkey begins to transition into the next world as a period of innocence, letting go of youth, releasing the past, and opening towards a new beginning, a new "youth" of the canine soul.

Bearing that in mind, if the boy wants grass, he gets it, and may the Goddess bless his pointy little head.

---Keith

Everybody Loves Sparkey

2006-08-01T20:50:00.000-04:00

They all seem to love Sparkey. The mail carrier leaves dog biscuits rubber-banded to our mail, a ribbon added at Christmas time. One of our neighbors calls him "a jolly old chap", noting his floppy ears and sunny disposition. Across the street from our driveway is a home operated by the Department of Mental Retardation where four developmentally disabled individuals live. The staff love Sparkey and Tina, and Sparkey will often make a bee-line for their front door. We ring the doorbell like it's Hallowe'en, and dog biscuits galore are passed from hands to eager jaws wet with anticipatory saliva. We're sometimes invited inside, and Sparkey makes himself comfy in the kitchen, he and Tina both knowing exactly where the treats are kept.

The people at the vet's office love him, and one woman who works there has now become a reader of this blog. (A shout out to Lynn!) A former dog-sitter extraordinaire reads this blog from Long Island and sends waves of love for her favorite canines, going so far as to have pics of Sparkey and Tina as wallpaper on her computer desktop (Thanks, Melissa!)

Downtown, our local used CD store and collectively-owned independent bookstore welcome our dogs with open arms (and treats). When the bookstore doubled in size last year and held a party to celebrate the occasion, both dogs were there. Dancing to Latin tunes by a local DJ, Sparkey was on the dance-floor with us, a smile on his face, especially when cheese and crackers were proffered to him on the sly.

Everywhere we go, we hear songs of praise for our dogs. Are they special creatures? Oh yes. Are other dogs less special? Hardly. But, as our dearly departed friend Woody once said, "Your dogs are so loving because they get so much love."

The love is still flowing, and it is engendered daily by those whiskered canine countenances which brim with compassion, beam with loyalty, and constantly express unconditional positive regard for the members of their pack. Our love is unconditional as well, and it's strength lasts until death do we part, and beyond.

---Keith

Sparkey Pollock

2006-07-29T11:22:00.000-04:00

In his later life, Sparkey has become somewhat of an artist, specifically an action painter. As he walks along the street, Sparks likes to let his urine flow without hindrance, sketching very idiosyncratic patterns on the hot macadam. Even in the summer heat, I've been surprised how long some of these installations last, and it's always interesting to watch them slowly fade and change over time.

Now, there actually is historical and artistic precedent for working with urine, namely the famous and controversial photograph of a crucifix immersed in urine by Andre Serrano. While opponents of the National Endowment for the Arts took up arms against this form of expression, Sparkey has no fears of reprisal or condemnation, especially since his works are both ephemeral and unsubsidized by the federal government.

Apropos of action painting, one could draw some parallels between Sparkey's voided expressions and the 20th century work of Jackson Pollock, who pioneered the drippy and torturous painting style that shook the art world in the 1950s. One could also draw parallels to Chinese calligraphy, as well as modern urban grafitti, not to mention the exuberant Abstract Expressionism of Robert Motherwell, one of my favorite painters of all time.

However, even with parallels between Sparkey's work and that of Andre Serrano, Motherwell, and Pollock, I find even more of a creative relationship between Sparks and that contemporary master of ephemeral and temporary art created in nature, Andy Goldsworthy. Andy does such temporary works such as "Rain Shadows", laying in a field during a rainstorm and allowing the rain to form an image of his body on the earth, and sculpting with flowers and other natural materials. (By the way, I highly recommend a relatively recent documentary of his artistic process, Rivers and Tides, now on DVD.)

I'm sure neither Andy Goldsworthy nor Mr. Serrano would mind being creatively compared to a dog, especially a dog of such noble stature and loving demeanor. I especially think Mr. Goldsworthy would have a cosmic chuckle over how a dog with no expensive art-school training creates such singular images.

Here's to yet another manifestation of Sparkey's latter day brilliance. Gotta love that dog.

---Keith

Ninety-Nine

2006-07-26T22:07:00.000-04:00

Today is day 99 since Sparkey left the hospital, and he just received his 99th IV since that time. That's alot of Lactated Ringers!

So many days of wondering how much more time we have, while relishing what we do have---today. He is still a constant companion and friend, loyal to our household and its members.

Happy 99th, old man!

---Keith

Status Quo

2006-07-25T20:05:00.000-04:00

No news is good news these days, I guess. Sparkey shows little wear and tear, other than some bleeding on the top of his hind paws after we forgot his booties a few times. His appetite remains relatively good, with some moments of turning up his nose at otherwise favored foods. Even with the temperature in the 80's and 90's most days, he still wants to walk around the block, drinks lots of water, and understandably sleeps a whole lot. Our friend David still comes to walk and hang out with the dogs on weekdays while we're at work, and Sparks tolerates his nightly IV with little protest.

Overall, things are at a midsummer standstill, neither in perceptible decline nor incline. For this, we must give thanks.

---Keith

To sleep, perchance to wake

2006-07-23T08:48:00.000-04:00

Even though we moved our bedroom downstairs after Sparkey left the hospital in March, we've taken to sleeping upstairs during these very hot days of summer since our only air conditioner lives in our bedroom on the second floor. Our central air died last summer, and though we miss that luxury, it seems more fitting to not have such ubiquitous climate control and be more in tune with the humid misery premeating our valley.

That said, sleeping upstairs has some benefits, even though Sparkey needs guidance making it up the steps (and sometimes catapults down the stairs, unable to check his speed or put on the brakes). The bed we're using up there is just a "Memory Foam" mattress on the floor with no box-spring, which has us really on the dogs' level while we sleep (although one of us often ends up on the adjacent futon most nights as well). Tina travels around the room during the night, her sleep disorder moving her from place to place. Sparkey, on the other hand, spends the majority of the night within arms' reach of the bed. Many mornings, all I need to do is reach my arms over my head and his bony frame is right there. Each time I awaken for the day, the room brightening with the light outside, I seek out a glimpse of Spark's ribcage and watch for signs of breathing. As I see his muscles contract and relax, the skinny ribs rising and falling, I realize we have another day together and I smile to myself. Today is another such day, and the boy's still here.

---Keith

Culinary Notes

2006-07-22T20:47:00.000-04:00

Sparkey was surfing the net today and came across a blog entry by a fellow canine. Said canine was quite miffed with his "maternal unit" for initiating a weight loss program which includes cessation of pancakes and cookies forthwith. Sparkey was up in arms about such culinary abuse, and Tina chimed in that she just might call the ASPCA. Come to think of it, Tina is equally distubed at her own decreased amounts of food on offer, and does her determined best to eat anything that Sparkey deigns to leave in his bowl. That said, Tina has consequently regained some of her girlish figure of late (much to her dismay), due to her parental units' watchful eyes and calorie counting.

As other dogs are put on diets, Sparkey's parental units do everything in their power to have him eat, and he certainly does oblige. While his ravenous appetite may be due, in large part, to the enormous amounts of protein lost in his urine due to kidney failure, he loves the taste of barbecued chicken and rice.

---Keith

Sparkey to the Rescue!

2006-07-18T23:34:00.000-04:00

Sparks, circa Summer 2005

We took the dogs to our local swimming hole---a very small river about 30 feet across and 6-feet deep--where we've spent summers for the last five years. Although we've refrained from taking the dogs there this summer for various reasons (Sparkey's health, his difficulty negotiating the sandy bank, etc) we decided to give them a treat after they spent a 100-degree day in our home with the windows and shades drawn against the relentless swelter as we toiled in the hot city some 21 miles away.

They seemed to enjoy the five-minute car-ride, and Sparkey jauntily made his way to "the creek", as we call it, hesitating when he made it to the bridge with three big wooden steps. I hoisted his hindquarters as he stepped with his front legs, and we managed the bridge with ease. Mary and I jumped into the cool water to escape the mosquitos, and Sparkey and Tina poked around in this familiar haunt, a baby's shoes and some bottles littering the tiny beach.

Suddenly, Mary let out a blood-curdling scream, thinking that the resident eel had wrapped itself around her leg. (It was actually the strap of her sandal which she wore for swimming!) Apparently actually hearing Mary's cry of alarm, Sparkey hobbled down the sandy bank, plunged gingerly but determinedly into the water, and swam the fifteen feet towards Mary as if to say, "I'm here, Momma! Never fear!"

We looked at each other, realizing simultaneously that he had reacted in a protective manner (renal failure and arthritis be damned!) and took to the water in response to Mary's impassioned distress. Mind you, this was his first full swim of the year---complete body in the water, paws furiously paddling doggie-style. He must have enjoyed the weightlessness. He stayed in the water as we swam up to him, praising him loudly and offering our wet faces for a smattering of Sparkey's Special Halitosis Kisses. Joy.

---Keith

Vet Report

2006-07-15T11:13:00.000-04:00

The vet called today to follow up on her visit with Spark yesterday. Lucky for us, this home-visiting vet will come to our house while we're at work. Lucky for Tina, she didn't need any bloodwork or shots this time.

It appears that Sparkey now has End Stage Renal Disease (ESRD). This means that his kidneys are irreparably damaged (which we already knew) and that the damage has worsened since April (which we suspected). For those of you medically-minded readers out there, his BUN in April was 87 and his creatinine (the best overall measure of renal function) was 4.9. Now, his BUN is 115 and his creatinine is 7.2, a considerable increase. Although protein is difficult for his kidneys to break down and process, and his muscles can no longer build mass with dietary protein, his carnivorous diet is still the best for him at this late stage. All that protein is bad for his kidneys, but the poor guy has to eat something and his disdain for carbs is now legendary (at least in this house).

On other fronts, he is now anemic (due to the kidney's role in the production of erythropoietin, an essential element for the production of red blood cells) and his phosphorus levels are high at 9.4, showing even more clearly that the kidneys are very damaged and extremely compensated. His thyroid function is quite high, meaning that his voracious appetite may be due to the revved-up metabolism, overall not necessarily a good thing as it causes him to want to eat even more protein-rich foods which further compromises his kidneys.

So, as waste products of metabolism build up in Sparkey's blood (this is called "uremia"), Sparkey may begin to experience nausea, vomiting, and anorexia (lack of appetite, not to be confused with anorexia nervosa, an eating disorder). When these symptoms begin to occur, we'll manage them as best we can, keep him comfortable, and weigh his quality of life closely and as objectively as possible.

In terms of medication, we are cutting back his thyroid medication in the hopes that his metabolism will be more normal for a dog his age and condition, and he will eat moderate amounts and not experience such intense hunger. His pain medication---Tramadol---is a good non-narcotic analgesic but also takes a toll on the kidneys, so we will begin to cut those in half and see if his pain control is good enough with a decreased dose. If there's any signs of pain or discomfort, we'll go back to full dose and keep him comfortable at the expense of his poor kidneys.

I told the very kind vet that he is sleeping alot, and she responded by saying that any 13-year-old dog will sleep "24/7" if given the opportunity, and that should not be a cause for concern, unless it seems that pain is decreasing his ability to rest comfortably.

She praised us for all we're doing, and encouraged us to continue to use the booties to protect his hind feet while walking. The 500 mL's of IV fluid every night is essential right now in order to replace some of the electrolytes he's losing in his urine and not absorbing into his tissues. Even though I sometimes grumble about doing the IV (this was the 85th night) and its cost ($13 per day!), it's the least I can do for this creature who has lived in our home, helped raise our boy into manhood, protected our property, ate off of our plates, and loved us unconditionally for thirteen-plus years. Even as he begins to withdraw somewhat and becomes less demonstrably affectionate (a normal occurence for a dog--or human--approaching death), we know he loves us and appreciates our love and care. This animal's beautiful soul has danced with ours for more than a decade, and we will dance with him (in the flesh) until his flesh grows tired and releases his spirit into the night sky.

And now we dream.......

---Keith

There But for the Grace of God.....

2006-07-14T22:46:00.000-04:00

Two of Sparkey and Tina's canine friends have died in the last three weeks. The latter of the two was the dog belonging to a family who are, to a large extent, a partial extension of our own. Our son Rene grew up with the two boys from that family, the eldest of those two "boys" now being a young father, with our son the proud godfather of his youngest child. This family, with whom we have shared a great deal of closeness and connectedness for almost fifteen years, had a dog a mere one year Sparkey's elder.

"Stanley" (aka "Daddy") loved Sparkey, and would, when told that a visit with Sparkey was imminent, spin in circular rotations and contortions of delight at the prospect of seeing his dear buddy. For his part, Sparkey was stand-offish with Stanley at best, apparently tolerating his ardor, yet generally giving him precious little attention, especially in their later years. Tina, on the other hand, seemed to be endlessly enfatuated with Stanley, who subsequently spurned Tina in favor of Sparkey, a tree not much worth barking up, so to speak, given Spark's apparent lack of enthusiasm for Stanley's exuberant adoration. It was generally a triangle of unrequited love.

The former of the two dogs was a wee little thing who Mary assisted a disabled friend to aquire from the pound. "Catherine My Dear" (after K. Hepburn, of course) was a constant companion for a number of years to our wheelchair-bound friend, and Mary even helped said friend to obtain "Assistance Dog" status for Catherine, even though her level of assistance consisted of riding on our friend's lap in the wheelchair, napping Olympically, and generally looking quite cute and small, peeing and pooping freely on the tile floors of the handicapped-accessible apartment.

Stanley and Catherine will be missed by not only their human pack members, but also the others who knew and loved them. Their love for their humans was exemplary, and the function which they served within their families/packs was an important and loving one. And when we learn of the passing of an animal friend, we always think, "there but for the grace of God go we".

Sparkey is hanging in there. Having just finished his nightly IV, I wonder---like Mary does---if we are doing the right thing. He seems comfortable, content, still eats his grass salad and loves BBQ'd chicken with rice. So we continue in the hopes that the months will stretch on, even as the financial burden of his care grows.

When the time comes, Sparkey---and Tina---will also go to greener pastures, and we will look back on our years with them with gladness and loving fondness. For now, here we are, and we bless the souls of Catherine and Stanley as they leave this physical plane and scurry off to new noncorporeal adventures and delights. May they be happy and free. May we all.

---Keith

...and finally from the Ms.

2006-07-13T18:56:00.000-04:00

Funny how bad news can be good news and vice versa. A friend was going to move into our basement apartment but then changed her mind. The good news part is that now my dogs won't have to adjust to living with a cat in their midsts (or the likely torture that could well have been for little miss Tina)

Sir Keith is more savvy and patient with posting photos from our Brookstone outlet discontinued first ever digital camera and thus you have heard from him more. I am still recovering from a bronchial thing and don't feel so well these days...Since Tuesday, i have come home and fallen asleep after work each day. I think that after this missive I will google walking pnemonia and see if i have the symptoms.

What does any of this have to do with Sparkey, you may wonder? Well, its my way of saying hello out there and I am dutifully here with the dawgs, even though I feel like crap. I have slowed down and can relate more to how Sparkey feels. I am trying my best to tune into him to see if he has any desire to end this part of his path and begin his new journey. I can't help but wonder if we are holding him back with our life saving measures and pain control and so forth. He would be well into his next life had we not intervened, so I am stepping aside from our attachment or fear of pain/loss to see what I can see, to listen more deeply, and ask the important questions. For now, I await the answers and gently enjoy the bliss out of who and what matters most in life.

~Mary

The Boy with the Boots

2006-07-12T22:50:00.000-04:00

Here he is, our old man, begging for a treat, even as the buffalo-hump of IV fluids makes him look like The Humpback of Notre Dawg. His hind legs splay out in front of him, his booties sliding on the worn linoleum.

These red and black boots are now necessary for outside walks as Sparkey drags his feet along the macadam, scraping the tops of his paws, resulting in stigmata which bleed and fester but are beginning to callous over.

Friday, the vet will come to our home while we're at work and draw some blood to check his kidneys and thyroid. In my nurse's mind, what's the use of giving him thyroid hormone if his levels are off? To wit, pumping him with all this fluid is fine, but I want to know if his kidneys are any worse off than they were two months ago. Just because.

Anyway, that's our boy. Another day in the life.....

---Keith

Sparks Street

2006-07-10T17:36:00.000-04:00

A street in Ottawa caught our eye........

Poop Interdite

2006-07-09T10:42:00.000-04:00

An example of Canadian pragmatism at its best.

No bilingual translation needed here.

Reunion

2006-07-08T21:21:00.000-04:00

We arrived home yesterday to happy, content, and well-loved dogs. The house was in excellent shape, the dogs calm and clean, the hearth and home welcoming to travellers who can lay their bags down and put the 1200 miles and memories aside for a moment , reconnecting with the canine pack.

During our week in Quebec, Ottawa, and Burlington, VT, it seemed that there were dogs everywhere, and we were pleased to see how dog-friendly and relaxed these places were. Unlike our Little Uptight Town Which Shall Remain Nameless, in those towns where we were vacationing, dogs sat in outdoor cafes at the feet of their humans, drinking from water bowls and enjoying the freedom to be with their packs, even where food is served (Heaven forbid!) We loved our canine connections, and I whispered "have a good long life" into many a panting face.

So, here we are, dogs at our feet, laptops buzzing, the sounds of a summer evening outside the screened-in porch. Sparkey is skinny but no worse for wear, and his devoted sister Tina is still by his side (or at least trying to eat his dinner when he's not looking!)

All is well.

---Keith

Gone Fishin'

2006-06-30T23:33:00.000-04:00

Well, folks, we're off to Quebec tomorrow morning for six days, leaving Sparkey and Tina in the care of wonderful people who will look after their every creature comfort and need. We feel certain that Sparkey will not be leaving us while we're out of town, but we've also told him explicitly that his time to pass is his own and he can go when he's ready to do so, even if that means going while we're out of town. The dog-sitter knows what to do in that eventuality, and the vet is standing by. Hmmm.

We bless our dogs and our home and leave them in good conscience. May these next days also bless you, dear Readers, until we meet again.

Pre-Vacation Jitters

2006-06-29T07:21:00.000-04:00

We're leaving on Saturday for a six-day trip to Quebec with Mary's Texan parents who will be in Montreal for a convention. We honestly never expected Sparkey to be around in July, especially taking into consideration the poor prognosis he received when hospitalized on Easter Sunday with acute renal failure.

Nonetheless, we're going away, leaving the dogs in the care of a very trusted dog-sitter with whom the dogs are quite comfortable. My brother---who is already comfy with the IV process---will actually pass through town on Saturday and do his avuncular duty for one night. A friend who is also a nurse will assist said dog-sitter in becoming comfortable with the nightly IV treatment and will be on-call as needed. Two other nurse friends will also be available.

In terms of a potential for Sparkey's death while we're away, we understand that animals and people will sometimes wait to die until their loved ones are not around, and it would not be a great surprise if Sparkey also chose such a manner of exit. However, my intuition says that he will be around for the summer and perhaps leave us in the autumn as the leaves turn the color of his orange coat. Who knows? At any rate, if he should meet his maker while we're out of town, his body will be taken by the vet and stored in anticipation of our return.

Neighbors keep remarking how good the old guy looks, despite the skinny skinny waist, bony hips, and scraping back paws with ataxic gait. As one neighbor said yesterday, he still has a bounce to his step and a flop to his ears.

Here's to more bounce and flop!

---Keith

In the morning....

2006-06-28T21:29:00.000-04:00

When I woke up this rainy morning, both dogs were sleeping back to back, separated by a red pillow. Some of you may not know this, but Tina has REM Behavior Disorder, which causes her to act out her dreams and howl like a banshee as she thrashes all about (you have to see it to believe it!). It's no small miracle that Sparkey and she slept side by side for even a few hours.

The old guy is so tolerant of his freaky sister.

---Keith

Mama to the rescue

2006-06-24T15:37:00.000-04:00

Earlier in the week, the dogs and I had a lovely little late afternoon walk to the pond where the dogs took what used to be their daily dip, that is, until Sparkey got too weak to make it every day :( On the way back, Sparkey put on the brakes and would not budge. I thought it was because of his usual stubbornness and was pleased to see his enthusiasm for staying outside, so when i gently tugged and pleaded for him to move along, he adamantly refused. Then I saw that poor old Bob's back paws were raw and bleeding. Poor baby had scraped the tops of his back paws from dragging them along instead of lifting them all the way. You see, he doesn't have the leg strength and his legs are too atrophied to move well for him, so they kind of drag on the up-step. This results in little sores that look like dog stigmata and keep getting reopened, but never this badly before.

So, I sprang into action and tied Sparka-dee-dog to a tree. Leaving him under the shade of the tree and verbal reassurance of my return, Tina and I then sprinted off to pick-up the Bob with the car. I hope he knew the plan and sent rescue images to him so he wouldn't worry, but before I got home, I heard a few loud Sparkey-in-distress barks. I left Tina in the house for simplicity's sake and drove off to the rescue. I honked the horn as I approached Sparkey, but of course, because of his partial deafness, he looked for the sound to come from another direction. Then he turned and saw mommy! I opened my arms outstretched to him just as I did the day we first met and walked toward him. He gleefully came to me, happy ears riding back, and we kissed. Then I took off the leash and he made a bee-line to the open door of the car where he contemplated being able to get in, but found he had to wait for my assistance. I think he felt true relief and joy after being plopped into the familiar car, riding along with his female alpha dog, the scents in the breeze making his muzzle examine the air. Oh, what a dog, and a dog's dog at that! I love you, Sparkey!

~Mary

Down Time with Dogs

2006-06-24T15:29:00.000-04:00

The other day, I had the great need to be home on the middle of the work week. Not only was my throat on fire and my lungs distressed, I was exhausted from a major event at work the day before, so this gal needed some time to do a whole lotta nothin' between the sheets. Guess who joined me (but next to, not under, the sheets?) That's right, Tina and the boy (or Sparkey and the girl)...Ahhh what a relaxing time we had, I got the chance to once again be student from these canine creature teachers and relearn how to relax, nap, breathe, and snooze! It was simply divine. Even though I was physically ill, I was so happy just to lay around with them. That's dog co-piloting at its best there, sir. Zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz:0

~Mary

Health Update

2006-06-20T00:01:00.000-04:00

A few emails from friends have inquired if Sparkey is OK, even though they had read this blog. This perhaps means that we have not really given a recent health update other than to say "the boy's OK". Well, the boy's OK, and by that I mean that he is receiving his IV every night with little complaint, taking his two medications wrapped in a lunchmeat burrito twice a day, and eating fairly admirable amounts of freshly barbecued chicken and beef mixed with white rice and Kibbles 'n' Bits. He drinks water like a fiend and pants alot in this hot weather, but what dog doesn't do that?

Walks are slow, and mostly around our very shady and sweet block. I keep him off-leash but watch him closely as he can't hear or necessarily see cars coming. Walks are always---and I mean always---punctuated by concentrated grass eating, Sparkey apparently in his "salad days". Unlike when he was younger, he doesn't seem to eat grass in order to induce vomiting (think "Canine Ipecac"). Rather, he seems to enjoy the tender new blades, especially after a few days of rain. Perhaps he knows intuitively that it's good for the ol' kidneys?

Speaking of kidneys, we need to call our vet and request some bloodwork, namely kidney function and thyroid levels, so we know where we stand metabolically. Other than that, we are on doggie auto-pilot and hoping that Sparkey can enjoy the summer with as little discomfort as possible. We will watch like hawks for hot spots on his skin, a sure source of distress, infection and itchiness, potentially much worse now that he can't scratch as well with his hind legs.

So, in terms of health, he's steady as he goes. Any changes will be promptly posted here.

Dog is my co-pilot.

---Keith

Still Here.....

2006-06-19T07:15:00.000-04:00

We went on our first overnight trip this weekend since Sparkey became ill on in April, and he made it through the weekend without incident. I gave him his IV fluids on Saturday morning, then again on Sunday when we returned home at 6pm, and tonight we will resume our regularly scheduled bedtime IV session.

Based upon the prognosis given by the animal hospital and by our own vet, we truly did not expect Spark to make it until summer. Due to his impaired kidney function, we'll need to keep a close eye on his hydration status and be sure not to expose him to excessive heat or walks during the hottest times of day.

We have had a trip to Canada with Mary's parents planned for the first week of July for a number of months, and again never expected Bob to be around until then. At this rate, it seems that he certainly will be (barring unforeseen circumstances) and we have a reliable and loving dog-sitter ready to spend the week here. This kind gentleman is also expressing complete willingess to administer the IV fluids in our absence, precluding our need to also hire a visiting nurse during our absence. He will be amply compensated for such dedication and service.

The magic of Sparkey's life continues and we can only be thankful for this apparently extended time. It seems our movie contains scenes which we never expected to reach the screen of life, but here we are, and there's plenty of film left......

---Keith

Dogville

2006-06-13T21:32:00.000-04:00

Our lives simply revolve around our dogs these days. In thirteen years of dog-human relations, we've never sent our dogs to a kennel, always arranging for house/dog-sitters to stay with the spoiled pups whenever we've left town, even for up to a month at a time.

With Sparkey's current illness, hiring our friend David to visit and walk the dogs daily while we're at work is an absolute necessity, and he spends extra time giving them love, affection, treats, and company. David leaves us a note every day. To wit:

"Hello there. I gave Sparkey his pills. Yessiree. We had a nice stroll and they both POOPED. The they had some chicken nuggets which were very popular (Sparkey always gets the lion's share). Now I'm scratching Tina's neck. She's my little fuddlebum. OK then. I'll be back tomorrow, rain or shine. See you----D."

As you can imagine, having such living and individualized attention for our pups while we're far away is a little piece of heavenly relief. This weekend, with a graduation party in New Jersey planned months in advance, we've been at a loss to find dog care. Our usual suspects are unavailable and we were contemplating taking the dogs on the long drive and staying in a nice pet-friendly hotel as we've done in the past. But luckily it's David the Dog-Sitter Extraordinaire to the rescue and we can rest in the knowledge that he will spend Saturday night partying at home with Sparkey and Tina. We'll be sure to supply them all with lots of chicken nuggets and BBQ chicken with white rice.

Life's good in Dogville. Thanks for stopping by.

---Keith

Today's Photos

2006-06-11T09:29:00.000-04:00

Here's some shots of a sleepy guy on this cloudy Sunday morning. We're amazed and pleased that he just keeps on keeping on. The Spark's appetite is good (as long as I barbecue chicken!), he's taking his meds, going for walks, and the nightly IV continues with little protest.

Yesterday, we took him to a nearby field where we brushed him down, removing enormous amounts of fur. This fur, which generally coats the interior of our house, was left in piles dotting the field, blowing in the wind, and hopefully becoming part and parcel of some lucky nearby birds' nest.

---Keith

What Am I, Chopped Liver?

2006-06-06T22:35:00.000-04:00

Here's Tina with some new friends to disembowel.

As sick as Sparkey may be, the girl needs love, too. Maybe more than ever.

---Keith