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In Loving Memory of
Bullmarket SumoLeBull Pelshire, CD
11/22/94 t0 3/10/08
I reme mber
how we crept through that last year of your life together. You were so
greatly diminished, and I was so terrified of losing you. Every day
that we were together for all those years before, you had my back and I
had yours, daring the world to even suggest that you were not the best,
the most intelligent, the bravest, the smartest, and the most beautiful
dog that any person could ever possess and that I was not the best, the
most intelligent, the bravest, the smartest, and the most beautiful
person that any dog could ever possess. We knew better, you and I.
I remember the first day I brought you home, 11 months old, sitting
beside me in the car, you looking furtively at me, me looking furtively
at you, so much pure unhappiness in those eyes, so much rage at
not being acknowledged. I stood by you while you battered yourself
against the sides of crates and cages, and finally, just those closed
doors, while I did those dull and necessary things that I couldn't do
with you. I
stood by you when my petsitter quit bec ause you attacked her dog, I
stood by you while friends with less combative dogs politely and quietly
and permanently drifted away, I stood by you even when you did your
best to drive every other living creature out of my house. I wouldn't,
couldn't ever give you up.
We were tied together you and I, by the heart. Remember those long and
solitary walks, for miles and miles, through woods, marveling at the sun
stippling the ground through the thick cover of the trees, the
wildflowers gathered in tiny brilliant patches on the cool, damp ground,
the sudden open spaces, impossibly green and blazing with light? Where
we could pause for a few moments or an hour, and see, really see, the
world all around us? Do you remember the times that we drove together,
me picking the route, and you riding shotgun, down all those rock strewn
and bumpy back roads, for miles and miles, just to see what we could
see?
I slept better when you were at my back. You were always there.
And I miss you more than I can say. My little redheaded dog.
Charlotte Creeley
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