Posts Tagged ‘Rubio’

Rubio’s River

April 18, 2018

It was all over—the great big puddle. It went from one end of the kitchen to the other. He didn’t mean it; he didn’t do it on purpose. It was his body’s fault. The yellow liquid inside him couldn’t be repressed any longer. Out it had come with a need never before known. The dog looked up at his owner, his brown eyes open and guilty. She took off her shoes. “It is fine. It is fine.” She walked over to him in the middle of the kitchen. “You are ill. The doctor will make you better again. You’ll see.” She didn’t believe a word she was saying. The dog’s illness had progressed too far for that. “Nothing can hurt you. I will not let that happen.”



Your Strawberries

January 10, 2018


I remember everything about that morning—the morning of your death. You loved strawberries but I couldn’t give you any. You used to look up at me when I ate strawberries and you would have stolen one or two if I had let you. I remember the man taking you up and putting you on his shoulder. They had just given you something, a sedative, so you wouldn’t feel anything. I remember the man placing you beside him in the dog pound van. I followed you in a taxi because I was not allowed in the van with you and the man. The taxi driver was a rough and tumble kind of guy, not the person I could confide in. He would not have understood how unhappy I was and that losing you was the last thing I wanted. I saw you on the floor of the dog pound when they gave you first one, then 2 injections to make you die. I did not want you to die, but you were so ill! You would not have lasted much longer. You would have been an unhappy German shepherd with no working legs. Our walks would have been a thing of the past. I have never forgotten you. I can never forget you. I know you have all the strawberries you want up in Dog Heaven.



January 8, 2018


He spent his last days in a small apt. His skin had developed bed sores. He could barely move. He had difficulty lifting his head. The weather was extreme that year, with high temperatures breaking records. Someone had to go to his small space by the wooden wall and ask him if he needed anything. His eyes would look at the person. He could not even bark. That last evening he got the meal he loved most—steak, potatoes and his favorite sweet stick. He slept until they came for him. A large man wrapped him up in a huge towel and carried down to where the truck to the vet’s office was. His owner was with him until the end.



January 9th

January 3, 2017

It was hot, so hot that everything seemed to be burning. You were dying. I knew you were dying. You had moved from the living room to the kitchen to get water from your water bowl once; then you gave it up. You went back to sit on the mattress on the floor. Your legs had bedsores. You had been used to walking half an hour 3 times a day at least. Now you didn’t care. Going out and sniffing things meant nothing to you. You were like a king in exile, a king who was tired and spent, but still strong. You didn’t feel like bothering with the basic things of life anymore. It was all behind you.

The Other House

October 9, 2016

They stood on the sidewalk. She held on tight to him, but the leash was long and she had to roll it up in her hands. “It’s fine, baby. it’s fine.” Her voice sounded normal; her body was rigid. She hoped he wouldn’t notice her anxiety. He looked at the people going past them, sniffing their essence as if he longed to see a special someone. “Let’s start walking. You tell me where.” He pulled on the leash so hard that she almost lost her balance. At the corner, he turned left. ” I know where you want to go.” Five minutes later they stood before a two-story house. It was all white, except for the dark grey garage door. He went to the door and sniffed. Their small car was at the curb. His body went down to the tires–one, two, three and four tires. He couldn’t help himself; he wanted more and more. Last he lead her to the garage door. He looked at her. “It’s ok. I understand. Smell all you want.” He stayed by the door for several minutes. “It’s almost as if you were a human being. They kicked you out and you still miss them.”


January 9, 2016


I did it. I did my best. Another anniversary of your parting came and I pretended it wasn’t true. I made myself believe that it wasn’t so. You are still alive, I said to myself. You are not dead. The pain in my heart isn’t real. I am not feeling it. This afternoon I will take you for a walk, one of our longer ones and then I’ll feed you. You’ll stay by my chair when I am at the computer. You’ll be patient and wait until I’m done. Later tonight we’ll go out again and once back in our small apt. we’ll be the best companions to each other. We’re lifelong friends.


January 7, 2016


How can I forget you? You were my life. I would have done anything for you, just like you would have done anything for me. You did trick me and that was not nice. I thought you’d live forever. That wasn’t so. When you left me almost 9 years ago, the world might as well have ended. But something about you, memories of you, kept me going. I need no reminders to be aware of what you and I meant to each other. The reminders appear in my life very often. I welcome them because I can’t welcome you back to Earth. To me, you are eternal.


The Immortal Dog/To Live Forever

September 28, 2015

The Immortal Dog/To Live Forever

It isn’t true. I don’t believe it. Your ashes are not scattered all over the place, who knows where. You did not die over 8 and a -half years ago. You are still here. I love you and I see you everywhere. When a K9 is protecting someone of importance, you are that dog. When an owner walks his or her German shepherd, it is you they are walking. When a child hugs a dog, he or she is hugging you. Your spirit is alive. Your soul has taken hold of my memory.


July 16, 2015

You are everywhere. They are all you. All the ones I see are you, the way you were when I knew you, when you and I were living together. I didn’t know I would miss you like this. I had no idea I would care as much as I do. I watch them go by and I follow them. There is no getting enough. My love is forever.


April 10, 2013


When this dog is next to me, and looks up at me with his brown eyes, I realize how important he has become. I am reminded of Rubio, my star dog. He used to lie down on the kitchen floor. I have a picture of him. The picture was taken in somebody else’s kitchen. His eyes are looking at the camera. The expression is sad, as if something were missing. I cannot think that this new dog (belonging to someone else) is mine or that he is like Rubio. He isn’t. But he does keep me great company and I feel less lonely. He is my new temporary friend. He will always be my friend.