Sunday, January 9, 2011

A friend for all seasons

Mac & Crash, Dec 2009

 
Mac was always in the pond

Moon, Mark, Stella & Mac-Fall 2005

Sleeping on Moon's bed

His footprint in the snow


The kids got him this for Christmas, 2007


Mac always loved kids. Always.

 
Moon & Mac, both 4 years old











 I miss my dog. A lot. This doesn't make me special or different from any of the other thousands of people who have lost a pet they cherished as a member of the family. It's just that I find myself still grieving over him, and seeing my children feel his absence so profoundly adds to my sorrow.

We got Mac, a 112 pound golden retriever with eyes the color of melted chocolate about ten years ago. He came to be our dog by a fluke. We lived by Jason's parents, and Jason's dad bought Mac as a puppy. However, when Mac realized we lived right up the street, and we had kids he could play with, and a house where he was welcomed into the air conditioner, he chose to stay with us. Jason's dad always got a kick out of telling me I dog-napped Mac.

There was no portion of our life that didn't include Mac. He went on vacation with us, he sat at our feet during family dinners, he found his way into the hearts of everyone he encountered. He was extremely intelligent, if you asked him, "Mac, where's Moon? Where's the baby?" He would proceed to whatever room she was in, stop at the rooms entrance, and sit and look at you. Telling you, "here she is, I found her. She is fine." He was very kind, loved to play fetch, he adored all kids, and was very friendly, unless you tried to touch one of the kids, any ones kid, that was at our house. If a service man parked anywhere on our street, he would go to the end of the driveway and watch him. He would never bark or cause a stir, he would just sit there to make certain whomever it was didn't come into our driveway. Once the person/service worker left, he would lazily walk back to the house, and assume his position guarding his family.

His face began to turn white, and his eyes started to get that reflective shine you know means cataracts are oncoming. The limp he had since he was a puppy became more pronounced, and he began to lose weight. We took him to the vet several times, trying to do what we could to keep him comfortable as he lived out what we all expected were his last years, plural. No one expected him to be gone so soon.

One Thursday last July we left the house to go to my Dads for dinner. We let Mac & Crash out, and returned about two hours later. I was the first to notice his absence, as he rarely left our yard.  We called, the boys got on their four-wheelers, Jason drove the roads looking for him in his pickup. Moon, myself & my niece Kaylie took flashlights and set out on foot. I contacted people in my community, questioned every neighbor, posted it on my facebook, all to no avail. Hours morphed into days, until that fateful Saturday evening rolled around.

I was at my kitchen counter cleaning when I heard the knock. There had been no bark to warn me that someone was approaching, as Mac had always done. It was my big sister, Melane. She and her oldest daughter, Laken. Melane took me by the hand, and when she looked up at me I could see the tear slowly making its way down her cheek. I remember that moment as clearly as possible. "Trin," she began, "Laken found Mac." "What? That's great! Where is he? Let's go get him!" I exclaimed. "Trin, sweetie, Laken found Mac, but he's, well he's...not alive." "WHAT? What are you saying? That's not true! Don't you come in my house and lie to me about my dog, Melane!" I wanted to punch her. Sock her hard, to inflict the pain on her that she was giving to me. How dare she say something as horrible as this to me? I slipped down the kitchen cabinets, and onto the floor. Melane wrapped her arms around me tightly, as Laken stroked my hair. "Trin, it's okay. Where's Jason? We need to find Jason."

I really can't remember where I found Jake, Mark, Moon & Jason that day. I don't remember what was said. Melane took Jason and showed him where Mac was, and then Jason told me I probably shouldn't go look at him. He wanted to wrap Mac in his blanket and then we would bury him. Jason lightly grasped my wrist and said, "Trin, don't. Let me & the boys get his grave dug, and then we'll place him in it and come get you." I was livid. I was having none of that! I almost spat at him as I began to speak, "Now you listen and you listen good, Jason Curtis Wilson--that is my best friend and I don't care what he looks like, he never turned his back on me and I refuse to do it to him now! I am saying goodbye to him, & nothing on this planet can stop me. Not you, not anyone. Now you can go with me and let's tell him goodbye together, or you can get the hell outta my way."

I gently stroked his left ear, feeling the familiar silkiness of his beautiful golden coat. As I looked at his lifeless body in disbelief, I couldn't say a word. I felt I had to be strong, to give him a proper goodbye.
Jason, Mark, Jake & I picked out a nice spot under a nice shady oak tree. We began to dig, and as the shovels scraped against the earth the realization that we had lost our family member passed through the four of us in an almost palpable manner. Mark stopped digging and grabbed hold of me. "Mom, I can't. I just can't, Mom. This is wrong, this is so so wrong. He was such a good dog, Mom." He began shouting, "Mom I can't put him in the ground! He is my best friend, Mom! WHY MOM WHY??" Jake sat his shovel down and hugged Mark, and began speaking to him in a low voice. "Mark, I understand. It's okay that you can't dig his grave. Let me do it, as a favor to you, you are like my brother & I want to help you."

After we had gently wrapped him up, covered his grave, and put timbers around the perimeter, we all stood there, the surrealness of it all still permeating the air. It was then that my family held hands around our beloved dogs grave, and I began to pray. "Lord, make me more like Mac. He was gentle, loving, forgiving, compassionate, accepting, kind, and he never judged anyone. Lord, give me a spirit more like his, because Mac's behavior was closer to Jesus' when he was on this earth than mine will ever be. Thank you, Lord, that we, of all the families in the universe got to have Mac as part of our family. Help us to not be sad and grieve over him, but to rejoice that we ever knew him. Amen."

It's a pitiful excuse, but I haven't been to his grave much in the last month. It's been the holidays, Mark's surgery, kids exams, Christmas celebrations, and the like. But today I found myself at home alone, and it was a beautiful clear day. I decided I'd go clean up around his grave, wipe off the statue we placed on top of it, maybe say a quick prayer there in the quiet, because to me it is a sacred place.

As I walked to his grave, and got closer, I noticed something red. It looked like someone had set a poinsettia right on the grave. As I approached, what I saw took my breath away. I had to pinch myself to make sure I wasn't dreaming. A small oak tree is growing right by his statue. It's leaves are the most beautiful vibrant red, in January when the entire landscape is barren and grey. And as the sunlight streamed in and shone down on his grave I felt my heart begin to heal, and I did say that prayer. I thanked God for giving me a sign, proving what He has always said is really, really true. What matters to His children matters to Him. And as we grieved, so did He grieve, for my family.

Consider the sparrows, my friend. God never changes.


6 comments:

  1. Aw, Trinidy your writing is just like living it. I fell in love with Mac...Diane

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  2. Thank you, Diane! Very sweet words. It really worked out into a miracle, though, because we have Robin's golden retreiver now, Boomer. Bless his heart I call him Mac sometimes, but he is an awesome dog! We've fallen in love with him!

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  3. You really should write books. You are captivating with words. Sorry you lost your Mac, I remember you fbooking about him.
    Christy Ryan

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  4. Well.... you have me crying at my desk, Trin.... I was there on and off during these days of looking for Mac and I know how hard you all looked for him and hurt inside. I am a self professed "non animal lover" for my own reasons but even I grew to love big ole Mac.... and God does indeed take care of his "own" and dropped Boomer right into you guys hands... its haunting how much he looks like Mac at a glance. PS. As you know, I have waivered in my tolerance of animals since spending time with yours and have grown quite attached to them myself. Never say Never... Enjoyed the story very much... love you. Chelly Bean

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  5. can't say anything except THIS was a beautiful post, and I can sooo identify...

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  6. Trin, I am just catching up on all the blogs.

    Mac was such a special part of the family. This made me cry like a baby.

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