Remembrance
The first report of the year is always bittersweet for me, because while it is a time of optimism and new beginnings, I need to acknowledge that it was this time of year that Bear—the original roving reporter—took his walk over the rainbow bridge. I never knew Bear, but in reading his reports, it was clear that he and HC shared a lot of time together and were very close. So, it’s understandable that he is a bit melancholy right now, even though it will be four years without Bear. I was not around to see the relationship they had, and I never fully understood the sadness and feelings of loss my HC was experiencing … until now.
When I became the roving reporter in February of 2021, it was just HC and me in his big old house, and I had free rein over every part. Later that year, a new person came to live with us on a week-on-week-off basis. It was a big deal at first, because she was five feet four inches tall and weighed one hundred and twenty pounds. Everyone was concerned that I would jump up, knock her down, and break her hip. So, for the first few weeks, I was sequestered. Gradually, everyone relaxed, I got my turf back, and things returned to normal—until I discovered that I could successfully beg for food from her.
It started under the kitchen table during dinner, and I remember it like it was yesterday. I was minding my own business when I heard something hit the floor. Suddenly, the smell of short ribs slapped me in the muzzle, and I went into search and rescue mode. Found it. OMG. It was so good.
Over time, I found the most effective way to get a taste was to sit next to her and just stare at the food. Eventually, something would accidently “fall on the floor,” and I would be right there to do the cleanup.
I soon picked up that every morning around nine, she would go into the kitchen to make coffee. The Peet’s ground coffee was kept in the pantry with the Ritz crackers, and I sensed another opportunity. After walking right up to her and staring up with my sad brown eyes, I would hear, “Sit, Moose,” and she would toss me three Ritz crackers one at a time. When she called me Moose, my HC would continually correct her. “It’s Mouf, just like roof, but with an M. NOT MOOSE!” She never got it.
When she wasn’t staying at my house, I would push open the pocket door to her room and sack out on her bed during the day. My HC never mentioned it to her, because if she knew I was up there, she would have pitched a fit. The electric blanket was really nice.
It’s been just over a month without her, and I now know what it feels like to actually lose someone that was such a part of my life. It’s a lot different than just missing them for the time they are in the bathroom or at work. I have a greater understanding and appreciation for the relationship human companions have with their animals and vice versa. Please be sure to savor your connection like you would a great ribeye from Moxie’s…