Six days eleven years ago.

Photo copyright Wings, 2020; all rights reserved.

Six days eleven years ago. 

That's all the time we had with him. Hell, not even six full days; four days and parts of two more. He was another wounded spirit who found his way to us however briefly, but despite the illness that would take him, he was also strong — a little tough guy who barked back at Raven, and who loved us deeply and wholeheartedly for those six days.

We called him Animikiins, Little Thunder Being. Well, that was one of his names. He was also Little Man, Little Big Man, Little Dude, Tough Guy, Thumper (the neurological damage that had already settled in caused one hind foot to spasm occasionally and, well, do like Thumper in Bambi).

He followed us everywhere, and he carved out of place in both our hearts immediately. And when we couldn't save him, it left a Rott-puppy-sized hole that hasn't closed even a millimeter all these years later.

It was this day eleven years ago, about ten minutes from now. At that point, I'll do as we always do, put cedar and tobacco and water on his resting place. He's near where the horses are buried, and I imagine all of their spirits watching over each other.

And I'll be haunted by sweet face, smiling up into mine on the vet's table, telling me he knew and understood, then circling into my arm and going to sleep before the vet even got there. I don't think he felt a thing.

Except love.

We love you, Animikiins. That never changes.


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