September 2, 2012
Colin's day approaches. Three years gone. Full moon has passed. What would I say about Colin if we did a Talking Circle on the day. I consider this one morning, as dog Benny and I walk the beautiful trail behind our house. What would I say? Something real. Something close to my heart.
Benny and I walk to Mountain Station, to the other side of the parking lot, and then turn around to walk back home. As I do this, a lovely golden lab approaches us. I stroke his side. I look up and see a woman approach, the lab's owner I figure, with another dog. She waves her arms to greet the lab: Here I am!
Meantime, my eyes are on this other long-haired slow and painfully-moving dog. My God! He has the face of a cougar! He's right beside that woman! Can it be so? I'm not wearing my glasses.
The dog-cougar is walking toward me, in a diagonal kind of way. And now I see his face, his face, he has a face! Astonishing and a little bit scary. Like a human disguised as a dog. I can't take my eyes off him. I'm closer now, and say to the woman: Your dog is so compelling to look at. I can't take my eyes off him. He has a face. She says: He affects so many people, whenever they look at him. Ahh, I say.Teacher of Love she says.
Ahh I say. Of course! Such a thing! I pause and then we each continue walking in opposite directions. Ahh, now the tears come. I walk. More tears. Is it what I say about Colin? Or is it about how he affects me now? Is he my Teacher of Love? Does his parting demand I pay attention to Life and to Love? The death of a loved one offers questions like this.