The first one. BearGirl, eleven years ago today.

Photo copyright Wings, 2018; all rights reserved.

It's a winter shot, but it was always one of my favorites. BearGirl, our beautiful Newfie girl, and the first of our animals that we lost together, so to speak.

It was eleven years ago today: the Feast of San Geronimo, about a dozen minutes after 1 PM, hotter than hell and with absolutely no one available, and the man who is now our vet (well, he and his newish partner in his practice, and the same one who came out five months ago almost to the day for She-Wolf) was not on call, but he came out anyway. Ever since, this day has not been San G to me, but the day we lost our beautiful girl. It makes for a difficult end to a difficult month every single year.

Back then, we did the cremation thing, and so BearGirl and Hunter have their ashes scattered in specific places; there's no grave to visit, but we know where their spirits are. And so, at the appointed time, I did as I always do: cedar, tobacco, prayers at the relevant place. This fluffy little girl (and her little "sister," Hunter) adopted me on the spot the very first moment they saw me, literally, and simply refused to let me go. Ever. They knew better than we did.

Eleven years, and there is not a day that she is out of my mind and heart. She had a particular place in front of the skirting of the old modular home where she loved to lie in the sun — that structure was longer than this house is, and so the spot now is open earth, between the southwest corner of the house and the bank of red willows than run alongside a few feet away. And every time I go past it, I see her there staring up at me with those eyes, deep pools of the purest kind of love.

I miss her every day. I always will.

We love you, BearGirl.



All content, including photos and text, are copyright Wings and Aji, 2018; all rights reserved. Nothing herein may used or reproduced in any form without the express written permission of the owner.