Friday, March 27, 2009
Requiem for a Dog
I met Casey on October 21, 2001. She was at Eastern Market that day, walking with my future wife. I was out of sorts, like I always am on that date, and my recollection is that I failed to charm my future wife, but succeeded in charming her Sheltie. They both charmed me quite thoroughly
Casey died in my arms on Sunday; being old, and full of days.
It's a time of transitions for our family, and Casey knew it, like she always seemed to know these things. She came into the family as Aunt Kate's dog, when JT left for college. She went to live with my wife when Kate made that transition herself. When we brought home our daughter, then a puppy, then our son, Casey always seemed to know what was coming.
She loved puppies, both human and canine.
We are working on the house, in preparation for selling it, so when Casey died, we were at the Bell House with my in-laws, where Casey lived as a puppy. There is a certain symmetry to it- we buried her next to Rosie, whom she knew as a puppy. Kirby, our little Cairn Terrier, didn't eat for three days- moping around the house, probably wondering where Casey had gone.
Our youngest wanted to sing a song, so we sang Good Bye, Old Paint.
The kids will remember Casey as the first dog they knew. My wife will remember her as a friend during her coming of age. I will remember her as the first dog that trained me so thoroughly, I knew what she needed solely based upon the bark, whine, or clicking of toenails.
Good night, sweet Casey. Wait for us by the white picket fence.
Casey died in my arms on Sunday; being old, and full of days.
It's a time of transitions for our family, and Casey knew it, like she always seemed to know these things. She came into the family as Aunt Kate's dog, when JT left for college. She went to live with my wife when Kate made that transition herself. When we brought home our daughter, then a puppy, then our son, Casey always seemed to know what was coming.
She loved puppies, both human and canine.
We are working on the house, in preparation for selling it, so when Casey died, we were at the Bell House with my in-laws, where Casey lived as a puppy. There is a certain symmetry to it- we buried her next to Rosie, whom she knew as a puppy. Kirby, our little Cairn Terrier, didn't eat for three days- moping around the house, probably wondering where Casey had gone.
Our youngest wanted to sing a song, so we sang Good Bye, Old Paint.
The kids will remember Casey as the first dog they knew. My wife will remember her as a friend during her coming of age. I will remember her as the first dog that trained me so thoroughly, I knew what she needed solely based upon the bark, whine, or clicking of toenails.
Good night, sweet Casey. Wait for us by the white picket fence.
// posted by David @ 5:30 AM 
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