Of all of the thoughts that went through my mind immediately after Mabel’s death this past May, the last fall we spent together wasn’t one of them. In fact, I didn’t really think about any of our lasts; not the last bath I gave her, or the last walk we took, or the last time she rolled in a mud puddle after a rain. Maybe it didn’t feel right to warp those moments into something they weren’t, because when they happened they weren’t ‘the last time’, they were just ordinary moments. I had no idea that they would never happen again, and I think that’s part of the beauty of them. Similarly, I had no idea this time last year that I was missing my last chance to experience Autumn with Mabel, because I was on my bike trip. I don’t have any memories of her in September and October of last year, and because of that it is particularly odd to come home to a new dog and a completely different atmosphere.
I’ve tried to express before what an important role Mabel played in our family; she was a source of happiness for the entire household, and almost always the center of attention. I always thought she was an exceptional dog, and maybe every pet owner feels that way, but she was the definition of an infectious personality. For some reason her overwhelming presence seemed to be amplified in the fall, maybe because everything seems a little bit more vibrant right before it fades away. Mabel was no exception to this rule; she was vibrant and alive up until the last minute. She remained a puppy for all three years that she was here, and to say that we miss her happiness and innocence is a huge understatement. My home has not been the same without her in it, at least not until recently. The most healing thing for our family was actually something that I least expected, and that was welcoming a new dog into our home.
Her name is Gus, and she is one of the silliest looking dogs I have ever seen. Her unconventional name seems only appropriate for her uniquely adorable appearance and equally unique personality. I had so much insecurity about getting a new dog, but because I don’t live at home anymore it wasn’t really my decision. It is a relief to say that my parents made the right choice, and rescuing a dog from Oglala Pet Project (the same place we rescued Mabel) already feels just as beneficial to us as it must be to Gus.
Even though the atmosphere seems to have been lightened by another bubbly personality, I know it will be a long time before the heaviness of Mabel’s death will disappear completely. There is a kind of pointlessness to such a premature loss of life that it is hard to move on without feeling some obligation to hold onto her. I don’t think anybody in my family wants to let go of Mabel, and maybe we never will. It’s not hard to remember her, and any time I walk alone I think of her walking beside me, occasionally nudging my hand with her wet nose. It’s funny how different smells evoke such vivid memories, and with the smell of autumn I am reminded of her auburn coat in the breeze, and her pink nose pointed in whatever direction it was blowing.
For now, maybe sharing a few stories and pictures of her is the only way I can relieve some of the pressure I feel to remember her. Though some time has passed I still think about her every day, and I have come to realize that there is little I value more than the uncomplicated beauty she possessed. Maybe that is the aspiring artist in me talking, I don’t know. But, as dogs do, she lived and loved unconditionally. I think these photos capture her blissful spirit, and I only wish that more people had gotten the chance to meet her.
Rove & Ponder 