Shadow's Corner

This title may allude to a myriad of subjects depending on the reader’s point of reference.  I shall clue you in that I had a beloved dog and this is his tribute.

All legs and prancing on the other side of the pet store window, he wasn’t our first choice for another family member.  I had chosen a petite greyhound, the breed which doesn’t run the track chasing after the bunny.  As we had multiple pets already, this addition seemed perfect in size and temperament until…the pet counselor stated that any rough housing by well -meaning established family pets could result in a broken leg.  Well, next!

Erik, our then 2^nd grader (I think), fawned over this puppy.  So we asked to meet him. We left the store with him being mostly all legs, docked tail and grey colored short coat in my arms. He stayed in Erik’s lap all the way home.

Having researched the breed and being captivated by the “grey ghost” description, “Shadow” was the perfect name. A hunting breed and loyal to family, the Weimeraner joined our family.

Never had one, didn’t worry about his fitting in.  We’ve always had multiple animals and never really researched the breed standard. 

Yes, he was definitely one of us.  We never discriminate, dogs are people, too.

He lived 12 years, did his best to raise our son and daughter and remained the only male of our “pack” for the last 8 to 10 years. He passed away a year ago last month. At least his physical presence did.

To explain and share the remaining story, you must be open to the realm of possible. This open ended frame of mind is rather new to me.  I chose it over the comfortable religious indoctrination of previous generations. 

I am spiritual and now understand the connection to all living things and the interplay which creates a constant unfolding of my destiny.

There are sacred spaces in my home.  They are in yours, too.  Some are hidden and do not speak, some are deliberate and beckon the rituals of daily living.

My kitchen sink is one.  I can hand wash all the dishes and cookware, utensils and glasses while I meditate.  The double sink (wash on the right, rinse on the left) and dish rack, the designated dish sponge, refillable round scrub gadget, the constant streaming of really hot water all coerce me into a semi -comatose state of “well it’s been a successful day” kind of thinking. I can stand there and stretch my calves and roll my head from side to side.  When finished, I can wipe my dimpled hands on the towel, hung just below the counter lip, and go about my evening.  The dried items will be waiting when I return…later…or maybe in the morning.

The conservatory is another of my sacred spaces.  It houses my concert grand piano.  Shadow’s spirit is there…under the massive ebony instrument. He laid there whenever I played, back legs just near enough to the foot pedals to cause me to miss the sustain pedal.  Oh well, my practices were not for public viewing, I could pretend that the phrasing was as intended by any of my favorite classical composers.

The other dogs gather under and around my feet now, but there is a cavernous space, almost as if it were outlined, where the dogs do not cross.

Several weeks before he died, a corner in my office/parlor garnered his attention.  Curios because there had always been a two cushion love seat neatly and snugly fitted on the wall, leaving maybe 5 inches space to the wall seam. He would just stand facing the corner, intent on…well…I don’t know. The other side of the wall behind the back of the love seat was the staircase with crawlspace underneath.  There’s nothing in the crawl space; hasn’t been for the last 15 years. He would

just stand and when his curiosity passed, would lie down and study whatever I was doing.

He never tried to squeeze his 96 pounds into the corner and he never sniffed about the love seat as I would predict a hunting dog would do. He never chased one of the cats behind the furniture, there was no hidden bone under the skirt of the sofa for him to guard. 

This was his sacred space. I cannot explain his choosing that exact location.

My remaining quartet of aging dogs have their territories.  We have exactly two small rugs and I often find them piled together a top one.  When the sun streams through one of our south facing windows, each will claim the warmth for themselves and only share if necessary. The Schnauzer will find an unoccupied chair and call dibs.  Our female Weimeraner will pounce with as much stealth as possible on the king size bed and the elderly pug will seek out her even older terrier pal to snuggle up.

Recently, during a grueling 7 months of surgeries and therapies, our other Weimy has discovered Shadow’s corner.  She visits; doesn’t stay but rather returns to her previous activity in other rooms in the house. It doesn’t matter if I am in the room, she comes as if she is honoring his memory. 

Today the Pug came and toured the sacred space, being purposeful and slow to not bump into the wicker chair and table which have replaced the love seat.  She’s visually challenged and her advanced years make any journey problematic if she pauses too long.

This beloved room, in the front of my house, is filled with mementos of my life and shares square footage with the necessary technology which keeps my life organized.  His presence is comforting and I am reminded of what unconditional love should be.

As we go about our daily lives, are we being guided and nurtured from beyond our understanding? If we open our hearts and share this lifetime with animal companions, are their journeys similarly directed? These questions are for your benefit.  I already know.

My Shadow is keeping vigil.