My Eagle and My Lion, Four Years Gone

Photo copyright Aji, 2020; all rights reserved.

Four years today. Four years that ripped the biggest of all the many, many holes in my heart, and this will never be repaired.

I was walking out to the studio this evening to start evening chores. Chinook stood off to the left, and for a moment, I swear, just for a moment, I thought it was Griffin. It wasn't just that she has the same coloring; yes, she's a hound, too, but her body type is very different. But just for a moment, he seemed to be present there, in her, just a little — just enough for me to start to speak his name.

But the, Griffin's always been powerful, his spirit far outsized to his body or length of time on this plane.

He was my spirit dog, a soul mate of a different sort, and he nearly immediately became the same for Wings. He saved me on more than one occasion, taking care of me when there was literally no one else to do so. He was what a friend called a benevolent alpha, always gaining the deference of the pack without ever having to enforce it, because his job, his role, his task and obligation, as he saw it, was always, always, to keep his whole pack safe. And on those rare moments when he had time to wholly himself, his favorite way to unwind was simply to lie in the cool grass, maybe a shaft of sunlight or only the shimmer of moonlight falling across his rich brindle coat.

We lost him too soon, and yet, he had a good long life: fifteen and a half years, far longer than most dogs of his size, and especially those who were rescues. But he rescued me: On the very night I was at the shelter to see a different dog, he saw me coming long before I could see him, and he was waiting. He was promised to another, but he knew better, and he worked his spirit magic to make sure he went home with me. And his trust in me was complete from the very first moment, a gift, with his purest kind of love, of incalculable value to someone like me, from a life of being not merely unwanted, but deliberately forced out of every space that by rights should have held a place for me.

It was 5 PM on this very day, and so at 5:00 I went out and took him everything we always take them: cedar for smoke, tobacco, water. Wings also gave me a piece of his home-made elk jerky, and its's tucked under his stone. He'll find it; he always does.

And I will feel that hole in my heart, that empty space, a little more deeply tonight. He was my Griffin, my eagle and my lion, four years gone — as fierce and brave as either, as strong and protective, too. Four years gone, but the love, and spirit, of our sweet boy is as strong as ever. We both feel him, even "see" him, every now and then.

We love you, Griffin. You're never out of our hearts; our spirits are with yours, always.



All content, including photos and text, are copyright Aji, 2020; all rights reserved. Nothing herein may used or reproduced in any form without the express written permission of the owner.