Seven Years Already

Photo copyright Wings, 2016; all rights reserved.

This day seven years ago was one of our worst.

It was the day we lost that little girl, Hunter, to multiple organ failure resulting from IMTP and IMHA, both of which were due to a toxic medication that had been prescribed for her. We had long since taken her off it, but the damage had already been done, even though it took more than a year to surface.

This is how I prefer to remember her, smiling around her toy. She was one of the happiest spirits I've ever known. The day I first came to this place, years before, she and BearGirl came running across the north field like a pair of fuzzy bullets, making straight for the strange car, both grinning from ear to doggy ear. By the time I opened the door, they were there and pushing their way inside the car. Hunter managed to crawl all the way up under my feet onto the driver's-side floorboards beneath the dash.

Wings said they had never, ever greeted anyone at first sight the way they greeted me. She made her wishes known immediately for her humans, the one who had been with her for some time and the one who had just entered her life. 

We couldn't save her from the effects of a drug that she should never have been prescribed, but at least she got her wish for us.

A little while ago, I put cedar out where her ashes were scattered. I think tonight's spectacular sunset was another greeting from this baby girl, her brilliant sweet smile writ large across the sky.

All content, including photos and text, are copyright Wings and Aji, 2016; all rights reserved. Nothing herein may used or reproduced in any form without the express written permission of the owner.