Saying Goodbye to a Friend

Life on the farm is hard. We are at the mercy of nature for just about everything, and in Texas, as in most places, it seems nature is out to kill everything we do. That's the deal, so you roll with it.

Last week, I had an early show for a flight, and like a hundred times before I left the front gate open thinking it would make my wife's trip to school a bit faster. Around 6:45 I got a call from my wife. She was hysterical, as were the girls in the background. My initial thought was that one of them was hurt.

Thankfully they were all safe and sound. Katniss had been hit by a car and killed instantly.

I moved into the farm on the first of August 2014. I found Katniss through a shady Craigslist ad. She was 1/2 German Shepherd, and 1/2 unknown. She was kind and loyal, smart and fierce, gentle and patient. I'd never had a dog so well trained and so good natured.

My wonderful wife didn't get here until late May 2016. During that interim Katniss was involved in every project, adventure, and trial the farm could throw at us. She planted trees, dug swales, herded cattle, protected chickens, and made me smile more times that I could count.

Since Andrea arrived Katniss had stopped coming into the master bath as I got ready for work. That day was different. She came in, never stopped staring at me, loved on me before I left. I'd told that dog a dozen times how blessed I was to have had her in my life. I like to think that she knew her time with me was at an end, and that was her way of saying good bye.

I came home to bury her, in tears most of the way. My dear wife had been kind enough to wrap her up in a sheet. I wrapped her in the blanket she'd slept on since she was a pup, and drove her down to our favorite place on the farm.

Little Red went with me, and was so very sweet. Little Red had just gotten a new dog, and I'm so happy that her dog was ok, it would have been more than I she could have handled along with starting a new school. She's also a Harry Potter aficionado, and understood implicitly why I needed to dig the hole myself, rather than borrow the neighbors backhoe. It was humid and pushing 90 by the time I finished. That time made it clear why we place so much emphasis on rituals. Digging the grave, talking with Little Red and Katniss while I dug made it so much easier to finally say goodbye.

Katniss will not be forgotten. I'm a better person for having known her.