Posts tagged Tigger
sometimes you just have to wonder
Jan 26th
ok.
This took me a couple of days to write … as I wrapped my head around it.
So.
The other day (the 24th of January). I am driving up to a traffic light and to my left I see a dog (a Rhodesian Ridgeback I believe) kind of chugging along the sidewalk.
No owner. Just dog.
And I recognized the look.
Probably because I lived it far too many times.
The “where is my owner” look.
The “I saw him pull out of the driveway and now where the heck is he” look.
The “I miss him and, dammit, I am gonna find him” look.
It is a look of casual intensity.
Ah. That look.
To the ignorant non-dog owner the dog looks lost. But it is far from lost. It is searching … it has a mission.
And typically the dog is conducting its mission within ‘the rules’ … i.e., stay on sidewalk, be polite as you pass people, don’t pee in someone’s yard, don’t run out into traffic, etc.
Oh.
And then the dog did the damndest thing … when he reached the intersection he stopped … refocused … and he crossed in front of the first stopped car at the stoplight and started walking down the driver sides … stopping at each driver window to check for his owner.
I say the damndest because … well … Tigger used to do that.
The smart bastard would know exactly who he was looking for and how to look.
(by the way … there is nothing more disconcerting then seeing your dog unexpectedly staring at you beside the car after you were pretty sure you had left him somewhere else)
Anyway.
And this is where you really have to sometimes wonder about things … the 24th is Tigger’s 2 year ‘gone to the dog biscuit factory in the sky’ date.
Geez.
I certainly haven’t forgotten Tigger … but I have tended to put the box of all the good times (and the times I could have been a better companion) on a shelf just to pull out and scan like a box of old photographs.
But. That searching dog brought the box out and handed it to me (which as you would imagine is, mentally, different than pulling it off the shelf yourself).
Look. I knew Tigger wouldn’t be forever.
And I always knew losing him would possibly be the worst thing I have ever faced to date. But, I admit, nothing could ever have prepared me for this 2 years he has now been gone.
Yeah. It’s been a few years now. But I still miss him.
And, yeah, I have never gotten another dog (yet).
We grew up together (despite the fact I was in my 30’s when I got him).
He was a great dog. And a great friend. (and, yeah Tigger, in case you are reading this post from wherever you are, I still have your picture on my frig).
I have come to the conclusion I will always love that crazy too-smart always hyper but always devoted dog, oh, and I will always be mentally giving biscuits, treats and belly rubs forever.
My dog and I were inseparable. He went everywhere with me … pretty much always.
Oddly.
I think he visits me still on occasion.
And I know he still talks to me on occasion.
And, yeah, for some reason on this particular day … this one dog was walking down this sidewalk with the same ‘where is my owner’ look and I had this same maddening memory … which I believe only pet owners know … the one that is a mixture of unbelievable fear that your best friend is going to be roadkill in his stupidity and the unequivocal bottomless love you feel with the disbelief that he would go to such extremes just for you.
But.
Thanks to this one dog on his mission he reminded me of another one dog … on one special day.
Well.
It’s always worth writing a note about (and to) Tigger. Who knows. Maybe they have wireless in the great dog biscuit in the sky (and they taught him to read).
And.
Sometimes you just have to wonder a little about destiny and how random things truly are that happen.
one year today
Jan 24th
So.
It’s been a year now since Tigger (my dog) left me and went to the Great Dog Biscuit Factory in the sky. He would have been 16 now.
Let’s just begin with its been one year and the good news is that the pain I experienced when he died has passed.
Looking back at that time, for a short time, it was crippling emotionally.
He was an extension of my personality. He was a part of me.
Today? Yeah. It still hurts on occasion. But it was an intense grief then. Now it is just a lingering occasional pain.
I guess it is natural. And in my own head I have resolved it wasn’t silly, crazy, or overly sentimental to feel so strongly at that time. He was a significant and constant part of life. He was a huge source of comfort and companionship, of unconditional love and acceptance, of fun and joy … if not maddening sometimes.
In his death I truly did learn how important he was to me.
Oh.
And I did learn that people who don’t understand the pet/owner bond do not understand the pain.
Also.
I did learn that locking away grief doesn’t make it go away.
I did learn to not avoid grief by not thinking about him but instead I reminisced about the good times.
I also learned some things that I didn’t really pay attention to when Tigger was alive.
I learned that coming home was a major event … no matter how long I was away. I had become so used to anticipating Tigger’s welcome when I arrived that coming home was something to look forward to (even though I didn’t consciously think of it).
But now it is insanely silent.
I learned that coming home is no longer a major event.
I no longer experience that special sense of anticipation, heightened awareness and unbelievable greeting when I put the key in the lock and open the door.
All that said.
Suffice it to say the death of a beloved pet is traumatic. I certainly recognize Tigger’s death was.
He was family.
He was my best friend.
He filled a big space my life.
I would like to think wherever he is that he is young and rambunctious and tigger-bouncy and chasing sticks and endlessly running with other border collies.
I would also like to think one day he will hear a “tigga-boo” and he will stop whatever he is doing.
And there will be that one moment of stillness when the body is solidly motionless and head up alert and the brown eyes are unblinking and the tail wags once or twice as he spots me coming over the hill. And he will sprint as only border collies do and my good friend and I will finally meet again.
Well.
I know I am not done grieving for my old buddy.
It’s taken me awhile but I have learned to accept my feelings. It still feels a little odd because you would think a pet should be somehow insignificant or less important than the death of a loved one. And, yes, a dog cannot be compared in any way to a human. But it doesn’t make the deep grief and the profound sense of loss any less.
It is what it is. And certainly not trivial. And certainly not done in my head yet.
I do know I still look for him on occasion.
I do know I have had some troubled moments (just those random things that life throws at you at times) where the empty space beside me feels as big as the grand canyon.
So.
I do know I haven’t said goodbye yet.
Oh.
And even when I do reach that point … just a quick note to my buddy … “Tigger, look for me one day, I will come home and we can be together.”
and to close this.
just a short note written by someone that seemed appropriate today.
A POEM FOR THE GRIEVING
Do not stand at my grave and weep.
I am not there, I do not sleep.
I am a thousand winds that blow,
I am the diamond glints on snow.
I am the sunlight on ripened grain,
I am the gentle autumn’s rain.
When you awaken in the morning’s hush,
I am the swift uplifting rush
Of quiet birds in circled flight.
I am the stars that shine at night.
Do not stand at my grave and cry,
I am not there, I did not die.
-Anonymous
NOTE: This is most commonly attributed to a Mary Frye (and believed to have been written around 1932); however, nothing is known of the author.
one year today part 2
Jan 24th
one year today part 2. just a personal note to my old buddy. just to let him know he will never really disappear.
“never disappear”
watch the place
like you weren’t really leaving
only to see
the emptiness in the space
where before
you were.
as you leave
i wish I could understand
what you tried to say
the day before
about the capacity of caring
for in that moment
only the memory of shallowness stares
into the emptiness
left behind
with all that’s been left unsaid.
oh, in your absence
i am not sure where
to begin
again
so please don’t take
my one companion away
for
in the space left behind
i have glimpsed the beautiful heartache
and have foreseen the fragileness
that follows
, therefore,
I wish time could have waited
one more day.
so, in your absence,
i imagine salvation
lies somewhere within your devotion
as my friend alice
once said
“some things get lost
and some things disappear
but my love for you
will always be here.”
yet, I fear
without you near
you won’t be able to hear
me say
“you will never disappear
from me.”
ringo, the beatles and dogs
Jul 17th
ringo
So. Ringo Starr (Richard Starkey real name) turned 70 not too long ago. 70. Oh. In case you are under 12 or have been living in a cave Ringo was the Beatles drummer.
Look. I was only 9 or 10 when the Beatles played their last concert but maybe because their music was so integral to my household and growing up hearing Ringo become 70 makes me feel old. Kind of like it’s time to grow up.
Ringo was always the playful one.
For god’s sake he wore a pelt and played a caveman in a movie.
He sang Yellow Submarine from a group portfolio that includes Eleanor Rigby, Norwegian Wood and Helter Skelter. .
And now he is probably best known to most people these days for his excellent work as the voiceover guy from the Thomas the Tank Engine and Friends videos.
While we will never forget him as the drummer of the Beatles, it’s easy to forget he wrote and sang probably one of the top 3 ‘post Beatles’ songs of all the Beatles (It don’t come Easy from the concert for Bangladesh).
It’s easy to forget as a drummer he shared the stage with two of the greatest songwriters of all time as well as another immensely talented guitar player and songwriter in his own right … and concert in and concert out and studio session after studio session he kind of kept it all together.
But he turned 70.
I guess in an odd way I just wanted the Beatles to burn out and not fade away. I don’t want to see the rust. (using Neil Young to make a point here).
And maybe I want that because their music is eternal. You can listen to a Beatles song today and it is just as good and relevant as it was when it first aired. Beautifully crafted. Wonderfully managed from start to finish. I would be hard pressed to find anyone who not only didn’t know one Beatles song but couldn’t sing along.
Birthdays like this remind us that time passes but some things remain eternal.
beatles and dogs
Lately I have had a number of good friends, and dog lovers, suggesting it may be time for me to think about getting a new dog. Not yet.
While it really isn’t time I actually get to put the decision off because I am in too small a place and the uncertainty on what is coming next in my life. So that makes the decision a little easier. I don’t have to make it.
But. It does remind me not only the great things about having had Tigger but I think the reason why dog lovers are dog lovers and not cat lovers. They teach you responsibility and give you character and an unequivocal dedication (when they want to). But. Best of all ? :
There is that excitement of being John, Paul, George or Ringo when you came through the door every day. Heck. Depending on how long you have been gone you could be all 4 of them in one.
Oh. And they never asked you sing.
I will get another dog someday. I will probably get another border collie. Maddening and nonstop hyper and their terrible two’s last 3+ years but I wouldn’t trade it for anything. The following picture is not of my old border collie, Tigger, but it could have been.
Border collies work when they play. And that makes them happy.
Some days I would be lazy when we went out and wouldn’t bring a toy or a ball or a stick and when he would stare at me with unblinking eyes and say “so, what are we going to do?” I would take a sip of coffee and say “go get a stick. Let’s play stick.” And he would turn and sprint away. I have no clue how he knew where to go and it wasn’t the same direction every time but, sonuvabitch, he was getting a stick. And on occasion this is what would happen.
dogs
Beyond treating you like The Beatles every time you come through the door I have one word for owning a dog. Companionship.
Ok. Maybe two. Dedicated companionship. I don’t care how surly, moody, incorrigible, lazy or whatever word you attach to a dog when they see “their” owner they pick their ass up and are just there.
Anyway. Just to complete my post on dogs thought it would be a good excuse to show some picture of how dogs provide joy and companionship all over the world. The great thing about dogs is that they are just like great friends. They need not be by your side for you to know that they are there. But they will always find a way to be beside you when you most need it. So. This is my tribute to dogs around the world.
This is for all the dog lovers. Miss ya Tigger.
sadness is sneaky
May 27th
So. If you have lost something loved here is a warning: moments of sadness are sneaky.
Just when you think you’ve filled the hole of the loved one’s loss with all the great memories you turn a corner and, well, it’s kind of sneaky. It’s not that something smacks you in the head and you crumble with sadness. Instead it is a simple little “something is missing from this picture.” And with every additional step that thought crystallizes a little more and a little more. Than what was only a glimmer of a thought becomes a more well defined space. It gains some edges. It becomes an empty space in the perfect silhouette of what you lost.
It doesn’t mock you.
It doesn’t try and get your attention.
In fact it exists in another dimension.
It is simply a space where what you loved is doing whatever they would be doing without acknowledging you.
What makes that moment worse is you just want them to turn and let you say something. But they are just there .. without you .. filling a space where they used to be. And you are without them.
But you are with them.
They just can’t see you.
And it kinda sucks. And then the sadness hits. This time like a very sharp knife in your gut.
And all you are looking for to make the pain go away is to be able to say one more word.
Or maybe one little touch.
I think the ache of the moment .. where your chest tightens a little .. your head gets a little fuzzy .. it isn’t that you miss them .. and it’s not regret .. I think it’s you miss being able to say something. And be heard. And having them acknowledge. And make the moment real instead of a memory.
But. It isn’t real.
So all you do is stand there.
And say things in your own head.
Maybe even say something out loud.
The sadness lives in that moment because it is just an empty space looking at you.
Anyway.
These moments don’t come as often as they used to. But they still cut quickly into the space surrounding it when they do appear.
And they are sneaky. Very sneaky.
But. I don’t know that I would like them any more of they were obvious or I could prepare better.
I imagine the hard part is that I know being some places will automatically increase the potential to trigger a moment of sadness.
Most of you know this post is really about lingering thoughts about my best friend of 15 years. My border collie Tigger. But. I don’t really believe sneaky sadness is that discerning in its choice of types of relationships.
My situation certainly isn’t unique (other than it is mine) but I believe those moments are so damn sneaky with me because as one friend said ‘… he was everywhere Bruce was.’
So. Empty spaces that sadness can sneak into are everywhere.
I guess the good news is that when I eventually fill up all those empty spaces those memories will be everywhere.
But sadness is sneaky.
So. I received a death certificate in the mail.
Feb 17th
As I plucked out all the junk mail from my mail box the other day I almost threw away a letter from a pet cemetery assuming it was simply a solicitation. Instead the envelope contained Tigger’s certificate of death highlighting the fact his remains were interred in a country setting with other pets. With this little slip of paper a lot of things came crashing back into my pea like brain.
The first thing was a feeling of selfishness. Did I not honor what Tigger truly meant to me after 15 years by simply leaving him at the vet? Should I have buried him? Did I do the right thing to have as his only memory a slip of paper rather than an urn or a grave somewhere?
The second was the thought of whether he realized how much he mattered to me. Did he realize that I wasn’t disposing of him but rather simplifying the ‘letting go’ process.
Aw shit.
I don’t know. After being shaken a little by this little slip of paper I took a moment to recognize neither one of us were ones to dwell on anything. In this situation the owner took on the characteristic of the dog and the dog took on the characteristic of the owner. We were at one on this issue. We took the good and the bad as simply a moment in time and moved on.
I would like to believe he would have wanted his ending to be just another moment, simply the closing of a door, rather than a more drawn out ceremony. In the end our ceremony was a brief loving moment between a guy and his dog. I still miss the sometimes goofy but best friend I called Tigger.
The Tigger legacy
With that said. This little slip of paper made me think about what I would like his legacy to be (beyond great memories with aunts & uncles).
So. If I had the opportunity to create a campaign for pet adoption or the wonders of owning a pet I would use my experience with Tigger to create the campaign. I don’t mind what has been done so far. The adoption campaign using Sarah McLachlan’s song was nice in a heart wrenching way.
But.
I still believe it slightly misses the mark (at least from a current owner’s perspective).
Owning a pet is truly a maddening joy not just heart wrenching. The tug of war between who is the master of the relationship can drive you through the roof and yet the moments of companionship are overwhelmingly rewarding. And through it all it is the pet that dictates the relationship. For it is in their loyalty and devotion that we pet owners will step up to the plate time and time again to speak out for how much having a pet can add to your life.
With all that said here is what I would do.
I would build a campaign from the perspective of the pet (I will use my Tigger as a reference point).
And I have the song.
Throughout this song envision everything from a border collie’s perspective (or your own pet which is the true test of a campaign). It is in his or her voice talking to you (the owner or prospective owner). You are getting a glimpse of what they see in you and their lives as a partner in life with you. It includes the moments when they are straining at the edge of your patience and you are sharp with them. The moment when he was at the edge of the field wanting to chase that one tantalizing squirrel and yet you called him back. The moments you had to leave him alone for a long day at work and he sits there staring at the door awaiting your return. And the moments of joy in togetherness.
You know in their heads they have to believe it could be easier but in their love and devotion to you (their owner) they will walk through fire for you and to be with you if you need them.
So. The song is Ginny Owens “If you want me To.” A beautiful song. Probably one of the most underrated love songs of all time (although I believe it is truly about her relationship with God).
That’s it. That little slip of paper made me think about my buddy again. And once again reminded me how much he meant to me, my life and how he could continue to inspire me to create things in his memory.
My last Tigger post (I think): Pet quotes
Feb 3rd
Tigger in his younger days
Every dog owner knows this … if you are responsible and loving and devoted and invest every ounce you have of those things into your dog, the return you receive is tenfold, no, hundredfold. And even better?
You receive so much there is even some of it left over to hold onto when your dog has actually left you behind in life.
With that. Some words from some people (kind of) who are smarter than I:
“He is your friend, your partner, your defender, your dog. You are his life, his love, his leader. He will be yours, faithful and true, to the last beat of his heart. You owe it to him to be worthy of such devotion.”
- Unknown
“Yesterday I was a dog. Today I’m a dog. Tomorrow I’ll probably still be a dog. Sigh! There’s so little hope for advancement.”
- Snoopy
“You become responsible forever for what you have tamed.”
- Antoine de Saint-Exupery
“Ask of the beasts and they will teach you the beauty of this earth.”
- St. Francis of Assisi
Top ten favorite Tigger moments
Feb 2nd
I am sure I have missed a number of excellent Tigger moments. I really wanted to include when he peed in the office right at the feet of the CFO (who was ambivalent at best about Tigger) or when he ran almost a mile (stopping at the curb at the intersection because he knew not to leave a curb) when we moved into a new home running back towards his old home, or “The Shark,” which is what his uncles would call it as he walked figure eights nonstop in the living room as we sat talking or…well…lots of ‘em. Here are my ten. But please feel free and add any I missed. He loved all of you and certainly did something goofily Tiggeresque around you. Bruce.
Ginger, Tigger and Bruce at the lake
10. Trained to not go after tennis balls on a tennis court, he sits watching from a spot on the side of the court, gets up, wanders from one post to the other (staying close to the net) while play continued over his head to get in the shade on the other side. We never stopped, he/we didn’t care and maybe he would stop and look to see if anyone would play with him before proceeding and plopping down on the other side. Sometimes he needed to be encouraged with a “take a break.”
9. The infamous “tuck and roll” off the Danuser front porch as he stepped off the side of it by mistake. Eyesight not as good as it used to be he kinda missed the steps, as he tumbled over the porch he did a perfect “tuck and roll” into the shrubs and came out onto the lawn a little confused but ready to start walking. Would have drawn a 10 from the Russian judge.
8. Caught in one of those side road suburbia traffic jams Tigger proceeds to jump out the back driver side car window, “sticks” the landing (to avoid the opposite lane traffic) like an Olympic gymnast then immediately bolts around the back of the car to the other side to a small patch of grass he had spotted from the car and went to the bathroom (cause he knew to not go in the car). All the while I freaked out.
7. The tennis matches with my tennis partner’s son, Brandon, bashing Tigger with a big Flintstones plastic bat in the space where all the people sat watching the matches and Tigger just standing there staring at me through the fence with huge brown eyes pleading with me to let him come on the court.
6. The Hannibal Lector crate. After he had opened a single lock crate as well as destroyed the wall plaster almost 6 inches behind his crate as a puppy, I bought a new 2 lock crate, moved his crate to the middle of a room and elevated it slightly. Hannibal Lector couldn’t have got out.
5. The infamous Tigger “harrumph” after the ‘take a break’ command. The best command he ever learned was the “take a break” command (about the only thing that kept us all from killing him on occasion). But. While he would follow the command when he didn’t want to he would lay down with a loud audible “huff” or “harrumph.”
4. Uncle Jim’s shoes. My place was a hotel walking distance from our favorite bar Laseters for rotating uncles after tennis and beer. One morning we woke up to uncle Jim yelling “Tigger!” He woke up to find the tongues, and only the tongues, chewed out of a pair of $100 shoes. From that night on Uncles staying over would put their shoes up on their bed, or the futon, next to them.
3. Car sick on the way to the lake. In the car driving to the lake with a friend she says “I think Tigger is going to get sick.”
“huh?, Tigger never gets sick.”
“well, you know how people get green when they are sick, Tigger has that look.”
(I turn and look and he is sitting in the back bed of the car with a droopy look and a green muzzle. And she was right, he did look like he was going to be sick). “Wow, you are right. He does look green sick.” (he had eaten an entire bag of sour cream and onion potato chips, and part of the bag itself, and his muzzle was covered with sour cream “dust’). And, yes, he did throw up when we stopped.
2. Tigger and his nose. Tigger loved “giving kisses” to women (having learned this from an early dogsitter friend who let Tigger lavish her with kisses). He was intent on giving kisses regardless of situation. Unfortunately Tigger never grasped the length of his nose and mastered the “unintentional spearing” transgression. From a standstill he could spring (Tigger-like) up to nose spear, oops, kiss, up to maybe 5’ 6” or so.
1.Lastly. Oh. I believe everyone from the original Tigger family will probably be on board with this one. While Tigger loved women and was really affectionate with them he was a “guy’s dog.” My number 1 is the ongoing memory of Tigger by my side and from the distance we would hear a “Tigga-boo” shout from Uncle Gary, Uncle Jim, Uncle John, Uncle David, any uncle in the tennis crowd and from a standstill he would be running 100 miles an hour to see his favorite uncle (whichever one it was yelling). He lived to hear a “Tigga-boo” call in the distance. (although Aunt Jen could get a good sprint out of him also)
As a good friend told me…he adopted everyone.
The morning emptiness
Feb 1st
So. This was the morning. The first morning in 15 years I woke up without my best buddy. While these days the mornings were typically quiet instead of the earlier hustle and hyperness associated with border collieness there is still a silence that is somewhat overwhelming. There is an emptiness where the space was so full.
“and then there was one”
we stand
by the edge of the field
where tigger and ginger used to play
but today
there is silence.
and it seems
all the stars are without wishes
for they fall without a sound.
and it seems
the leaves are so still
and fall without a sound
for they desire to drop
without disturbing
the memory of what was.
we stand
by the edge of the field
and see
the emptiness
where once they were there
but now
there is silence.
and where they played
the grass stands alone.
i stand
and then there was
just one.
Letting Go. Holding On.
Jan 29th
I love contradictions. I have always believed the moment you own a contradiction is the moment you capture an emotional and intellectual awareness.
I encountered one on Tuesday. Letting go and holding on.
That was the day my 15 year old dog died. That morning I was ready to let go and wanted to hold on.
Walking into the vet with my dog’s head resting on my shoulder I had already said goodbye alone at home. I was ready to let go. And yet. When I laid him down on his towel at the vet I asked for a couple minutes more. I wanted to hold on. What I chose to do was scratch him behind his ear and say goodbye. I know he couldn’t feel it. It was more for me then it was for him. But. It was my last time to hold on to him before I let go.
Letting go and holding on.
I was right. Owning a contradiction is powerful.
