Doggy Donors

My friend Beek sent this to me yesterday:

                           

It is a wonderful sentiment. However, I don’t think that it applies – at least, not to me.
My soul is so self-centered – so ‘ego-centric, as people like to call it nowadays’ – that I don’t think that little bits of doggie heart would take. My spiritual system would probably reject the transplant. I simply am not of the stuff that doggie heart can live in and prosper.

For the longest time, we had three dogs.

Kia was the eternal teenager – she was a Lab, with all that that implies. She was always ready to play, but she had a pretty serious case of middle-dog syndrome.

Lucy was the little kid – ’nuff said.

And Maia was the alpha female. She was in charge, and she handled her job very well. Maia actually taught the other dogs how to behave – even taught ’em where to go to the bathroom.

We said goodbye to Kia last year – cancer in her hips and thighs.

Maia left yesterday.

Lucy is still here, and as far as I can tell will always be here.

Lucy will die still a baby; Maia was born a sage. Everybody who met that dog knew that she was something special – not just beautiful and strong and heathy, but smart; and she projected wisdom; she seemed like an old soul.

(If the Gentle Reader thinks that I am overstating the case, inquiries to those who knew Maia well is encouraged).

Kia is gone, and I have not inherited any of her playfulness and enthusiasm.If anything, I’ve become more serious and matter-of-fact over the last year.

Maia is gone, and I have no hope of attaining even a small fraction of her presence.

Lucy is still here – and, Lord help me, I’ve already got childish and dumb down, and don’t need any help in those areas : )

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