Today I have Jason back with me, even though his heart is encompassed with sadness for his loss. He wanted to come here and take a moment to express his pain and in honor of Meira offer 10 copies to 10 different commenters of his book. Check out Jason's books here:
http://closeencounterswiththenightkind.blogspot.com/2012/04/giveaway-and-guest-post-with-my.html
It's never easy when a loved one passes away. They say time heals wounds, but honestly, the
pain of loss never truly heals entirely.
On April 23 2012, a creature that I called my
"daughter," (who would have been 10 years old on May 29th) was taken
from us. Her name was Meira. She was
half husky, one-quarter german shepherd, one quarter lab, and one heck of a
character I'll never forget!
For those of you out there who are animal lovers, you know
exactly what I mean when I say we recognize our pets as members of our family,
and also their personalities—and let me tell you, Meira most defiantly had
hers. So, if you would please, take a
few minutes to read my tribute for my Meira, (and also comment). It would be most appreciated.
So here we are, my wife—(fiancée at the time) and I, seeking
out Meira's place of birth, just after we saw the flyer at this little gas
station in Selkirk, New York. I had called
the number on the flyer and had talked with the guy, asking him for
directions. Eventually, we pull up the
long driveway, notice a large fancy house with about two acres of beautiful
open grassland, and even a couple of purebreds wandering about. (I forget the
actual breed, so, let us just call them grey hounds).
"Ooo! Looks like they have lots of dogs around
here!" I had said to my wife, excited.
Remember, we were going there expecting to see a Husky and a german
shepherd/lab Mix strolling about. We
knock on the door, a man comes out, and of course we tell him we're there to
pick up the puppy. He calls the owner on the phone, talks with her a bit, and then hangs up and tells
us she's on her way. I look at him and
say, "I guess I must have talked with the husband a little while
ago." He smiles, and for about five
minutes we have small talk, and I eventually grow bored (as Darshun does in my
Guardian of the Seventh Realm series whenever small talk arises), and I finally
ask, "so, where are the puppies?"
He answers, "She'll show them to you when she gets
here."
I say, "I see she has a couple of types of dogs besides
a husky and a shepherd mix."
He tilts his head and comments, "She owns Husky, only
grey hounds.”
That was when Melissa and I realized that we were at the
wrong house—all that time! And here the owner left work, and is on her way
home, and probably expecting to be getting a thousand dollars or more from
another customer, when all we were looking for was a "mutt." *laughs*
So after an apology, and of course getting the heck out of
there before the owner arrived, I called the number on the flyer once again to
ask for directions…once again. I felt like an idiot, but getting our puppy was
worth the embarrassment. Once there, and
cruising up the driveway, we were relieved to see the mother husky strolling
around the yard. Yes, we had made it to
the right house this time. *smiles*
It was a type of farmhouse, and to be honest, neither my
wife nor myself cared much for the owners.
They had a bit of a cold aura, but maybe they were just having a bad
day. Anyhow, they bring all of the puppies out, and the little things were all
running around and playing, all except for this one tiny black and tan
pup. Abandoning her siblings, she alone
strolled over to my wife and licked her face.
Immediately, Melissa said, "I want this one!" Welcome home, my Meira.
Away in the car we went, and as every puppy does (every
puppy I’ve ever known), she cried, obviously missing her siblings and her
mommy, and now in a strange environment. She calmed down after a little
while. I remember taking her to
PetSmart, putting her in a shopping cart, as we strolled around getting her
toys, treats and puppy food. Then we took her to my job site at the time. It was a brand new neighborhood being built,
and for fun I showed my wife the inside of an unfinished—yet safe to walk
into—three-story house. We went inside
with Meira, sat, and talked about her, and also to her. I can still clearly see little Meira in my
wife's arms as Melissa was sitting. We
were very happy. And to finish up this
little story, we stopped at McDonalds on the way home, and bought her a plain
hamburger. She wouldn't touch the bread,
but she did gobble up the meat. *laughs*
Meira was definitely her own character (as all animals are),
but she made us all laugh. She insisted on taking walks—whether I walked her or
not. Everyday after work when I would
come home, and let her out, she'd get all excited, jump on Fawn (my
shepherd/golden retriever mix), then she'd go potty, and slowly wander down the
hillside of the yard. Eventually, all
you could see would be her big fluffy husky tail wagging, and slowly
disappearing out of site. Then she’d
make a run for it before I could get her back, whipping through the tree lines
and into the woods she would go, and always return from the opposite side of
our house, about twenty minutes later, wanting her supper. I always wondered about her little
adventures, what she saw...where she went, etc.
Sometimes she’d come back muddy and drenched, no doubt took a swim in
the little shallow stream.
She loved the outdoors.
She loved my wife's pet rats, and would even growl at the cats if they
came near them, as if she was their protector. I think the thing she'd cherished
most was her love of food. She'd eat
every single scrap in her bowl. She'd even try and sneak the leftovers in the
bowls of the other dogs, and when we'd catch her we'd shout, "Meira! Get
out of there!" She'd start eating
and gobbling up that food so fast, until it was either gone—gobble up by her,
or taken away by us. She just loved to
snoop around for scraps of human and/or cat food also. I even caught her on all fours walking on my
parent’s kitchen table when she was about 3 months old, looking for food. As she got older she was getting a little
tubby, no, a little too tubby that I had to put her on a diet. She lost a little weight, and then I put her
back on regular food, she gained the weight back, and also additional weight
(of course me feeding her table scraps every other night couldn't have helped,
but hey, it made her happy), and so back on the weight management food she'd
go. She especially loved bones. Every
now and again I would get her the beef bones with the marrow in the middle, and
every late winter, after deer hunting season would end, she'd return out of the
woods with a deer leg. One time she
returned with what looked like a deer spine, LMAO! I never took it away. She loved it too much.
I also called her my "Lovey Dovey," because of how
she'd mush or snuggle her head against you, or against the floor while you'd
pet her, (and God forbid if you stopped, because she would immediately look up
at you as if to say, "more pets, daddy! More pets!"), or she’d give
me a hug by jumping onto me and gently kissing me. That's the thing about her, she was big,
solid and tubby, but she was gentle. You never had to be afraid of her taking
your hand off when sharing people food with her. She'd always take it so
gentle.
Probably the funniest thing she had ever done (besides
chewing away the ONE branch that my nephew was holding on to from keeping
himself from sliding down a snow covered hillside one winter) was a time when
my father-in-law Baxter was burning the brush in early spring. Meira, and her love for sticks, walked up to
the pile, reached down, and picked up the lower end of a five or six-foot
branch—while the rest of it was enflamed!
I admit, while I was nervous, I also laughed my arse off as she strolled
around the yard with it, looking ever so happy, as if to say, “daddy, look at
what I got!”
She also definitely had that stubbornness of the husky in
her. She, in a way, was her own boss. You’d tell her to “come,” she’d just look
at you, look another direction, look at you again, and then either listen
(after she had made the decision to listen), or run or even walk
off! Talk about adding insult to injury
against me. Then she’d come back looking
ever so happy. God, do I miss my Meira
dearly.
Want to why we named her “Meira?” Funny thing is, before we
had gotten her, my wife and I used to play an online game together called “Dark
Ages.” Our characters in the game were dating one another. We’d go on our little adventures, chopping
down monsters and leveling up our powers.
My dude’s name was “Chevron.” Pretty horrible, right? My wife’s name was “Meira,” and both of us
really liked that name. And as we were
driving away with her from her previous owners, both of us thought she looked
like a “Meira.” Although I must say, we
didn’t play Dark Ages that much after that. Part of the reason was I was
growing bored with it, but also the concept of me “dating” a Meira was...well,
a bit weird. *laughs*
Her nick name became “Wall” because it flowed with “Meira
Meira, on the wall,” but mostly because she was solid like a brick wall. If she wanted out of her kennel, she would
find a way out. If she wanted out of her
harness—no matter how well-equipped it was attached, she found a way out. If she wanted the cat food, she’d break
through the “barricade” I would sometimes make, whenever I wasn’t looking.
Now, on to the part that is not so humorous. Last week, I noticed she was acting
strange. She wouldn’t touch her food,
which was not like our Meira. She also
looked like she was in discomfort. I
gave her a couple of chunks of my chinese food to see if she would eat it, and
she did, immediately, and happily. So I
thought, maybe she is tired of the Taste of the Wild: Salmon I had been feeding
her. The next day I came home with
Buffalo Blue Chicken and Brown Rice, Weight Management, and she ate it, like
normal, and even looked around for scraps of food in the kitchen, like she’d
normally do, with her love of food. But
I decided to take her to the vet anyway. The vet checked her out, and said that
now that she is getting older, she’s probably developing arthritis in her legs
(which would explain her limping, and slower movement within this last
year). They gave her her kennel cough
shot, and lyme vaccination, then we left.
On the way home we stopped and got her a dish of soft vanilla ice
cream. She lapped it up, happily. Everything seemed fine. She appeared a bit peppier as the weekend
went by, and my wife and I even shaved her, as we do ever spring because of her
thick fur and her hate of summer’s heat.
Then on Monday, April 23 2012, after work, I go into our
house, while my wife retrieves the dogs.
As Meira strolled outside from the basement/garage of my in-law’s raised
ranch, she just fell over. Melissa
screamed for me. I looked out the window, and saw Meira on the grass, and I
knew—by the look on Meira’s face—that something was seriously wrong. I ran outside and went to her. She was shivering, and was having trouble
breathing. Wasting no time, I picked her
up by myself—never minding the fact that she’s 107 pounds and could’ve hurt my
back, placed her in the car, and we rushed to the vet on an emergency call.
The vet found that her blood pressure and temperature were
dangerously low, and found a lot of fluid built up in her belly. I helped the lady carry Meira into the x-ray
room, and in a few minutes, we discovered that she had an enlarged heart, with
fluid around it, and also backing into her belly, from what I can
remember. Just about this whole time I
was in shock. Everything was happening
so fast, and unexpectedly. The doctor
said there was still a chance for her to live, perhaps a week, a month, or
possibly another year. They gave her lasix, in hopes to drain the fluid, and
then planned on putting her on meds to continuously help keep the fluid
out. But...Meira knew. Our Meira knew it was her time.
She wasn’t nervous. She wasn’t frightened, not even of the
shots they were giving her. She looked at me, I at her, and she kissed me on my
lips with her wet tongue. I had been petting
her, spilling my tears onto the back of her head, kissing her head, hoping it
wasn’t the end, but...she knew it was her time. Still, hoping for a miracle, we
decided to leave her there over night, hoping she’d pull through, as the vets
would watch her. I gave her my brown flannel—a flannel I really loved, and one
that looked good on me. I left it with
her so she’d have my scent over the night.
Kissing the top of her head one last time, I said, “I love you. I always have. And I always will.” We started walking out. I turned around to
look at her one last time, she looked directly at me, again having that
peaceful and calm expression, and then she glanced upward at something. I don’t
know what, but something caught her eye. I turned around and we left.
We get home, and almost immediately my wife has the sudden
urge to go back. Then the phone
rings. It is the vet. Meira passed away about 15 minutes after we
had gone. She was the type who, if she
had gotten the chance, she would have wandered into the woods to find a place
to die. Both Melissa and I, in our
tears, knew she did not want us to see her pass away, so we believe she held on
as long as she could, until she knew for certain that we had gone, and then...she
let go. We went back to the vet to see
her body, and say goodbye one final time.
We even took her sissy Fawn with us so she could see her body, and say
goodbye also. We decided to get Meira
cremated, so her ashes can always be with us, wherever we go. And I asked the vet to please leave my brown
flannel with her, to get cremated with her as well.
I must say, I have had uncles pass, and other pets and
animals too, but...Meira’s passing has been the hardest pain of loss I have
ever felt. When you’re a child (at least
for me this is true), and the pet that your parents get you eventually passes
away, you cry, of course you do. But
when I became an adult, and chose to bring Meira home as a member of our
family, where I was the one responsible for her health, to keep her up to date
with her shots, to feed her and the like, well, that bond for me was so
immensely deep. She wasn’t my “flesh and
blood” daughter, no, but she was my “daughter,” if you catch my meaning, and
I’m sure you do. It is so difficult—so difficult! coming home from work now,
and not having our Meira here to greet us, to jump on Fawn, and then run off
for her walk, only to come back to eat and lay with the rest of her pack, her
family. It’s so difficult seeing her fur
still on draped over the grass from when we had shaved her this past
weekend. It’s so difficult seeing her
food bowl still on the floor in the kitchen, and looking in the places where
she would often lay down in our house, and not see her there now.
I know death is part of life. It is a difficult part of life, one that we
all will face. And at the same time, it
is, as I truly believe, a transition into the next realm of reality. Yes, I do believe in an after life, even for
animals, as silly as that may seem to people.
We are animals too, are we not? Over
the years I have read an “encyclopedia” of material about spiritualities and
the universe, and I’ve experienced many inspiring and strange events and
feelings. I even witnessed an apparition
when I was a child. I remember it as
clearly as this day. Do I understand the
afterlife, how it can be so? I do not.
Perhaps one day, when we have the proper tools and technology, it could be
explained in a scientific matter, as we unlock the many mysteries of this
strange, phenomenal universe we exist in, and also the energy of it.
I believe Meira is in another place now, a realm of infinite
possibilities, containing all that one needs in order to be happy, docile, and
satisfied. I believe Meira is indeed at
peace, and with a Higher Power. And I
believe that Melissa and I will see her again when it is our time to
“transition” into that realm.
One last thing I’d like to say. The fact that there is so much violence,
death and darkness in this world...the fact that people commit such horrible
crimes, to people, animals and nature Herself (something I bring forth in my
novels), at the same time, there is good in this world. When Meira was a puppy, and I was outside
with her under the stars of nightfall, I remember looking down at her while she
was looking up at me, and I thought, "she's so beautiful...adorable. She's
a tubby little thing, who likes to eat, but she's happy. And I know there are
thousands of dogs out there who either get abused, or abandoned and/or
euthanized. I wish I could save them
all. I really wish that. But if not, I saved one, I saved Meira. We
gave her a home; she became part of our pack, our family...her family, and I
will take care of her until the day she passes.”
I love you Meira, with all of my heart. I always have, and I
always will, my “wall.” We’ll see you
when it’s our time. :)
Meira Wall Baccaro
May 29 2002 – April
23 2012
Just comment below for your chance to win. I'm so sorry for your loss Jason. I have felt this type of pain too.
