They call the wind ‘Mariah’

I’d rushed home after a big and windy storm to see if my trees were still standing, and the dogs were relaxing.

I found it quiet as I turned the key.

In hindsight, maybe too quiet.

Tucker the tenacious terrier and Maddie my matronly corgi stood at attention guarding their ‘sister’ Mariah.

She had just passed away.

Mariah, also a corgi, had been ill recently but in no pain.

The vet had advised me the end was near, after I’d brought her in when she’d stopped eating and taking fluids.

Though I’d been hopeful the last few days once she fought the syringe of chicken soup in favor of her dog food again.

Yet I found myself accepting the passing of the peaceful looking creature before me.

Tucker, her self appointed boyfriend and sweet Maddie had already done the same.

I drove the short distance down to the vet with Mariah next to my side.

The vet, his receptionist, and I spoke together softly, then chose to celebrate Mariah’s 12 years of life:
-Her transition from four years in a bad puppy mill to what I believe was a good home for the remaining eight.
-How she was terrified of men, yet so loved my late husband.
-An elegance always in her stride and a sense of calm in her demeanor.
-Innocence, mostly, except for an annual frat party of mischief, showing off…….
-Great skill at counter surfing for bags of oily French Roast coffee beans carried and then consumed up on the leather couch.
-Good utilization of paws to grab flour bags to the floor to be torn apart, then shaken over the entire living room carpet.
-Determination (and success) at learning to open the refrigerator to drag out a Thanksgiving bird for the canine clan’s special feast on my love seat.

We laughed, and then I cried at every tale.

As I walked out of the vet’s office, I thought I may have left Mariah’s body there, but I felt her gentle soul still with me.

At least for a while.

Once I drove off, a brilliant rainbow appeared over head in a breeze.

I’m thinking Mariah leapt right up onto that path, joining other beautiful creatures crossing the rainbow bridge.

I hear they often call the wind, ‘Mariah’.

Here’s hoping that wind is always at her back.

Joy harvest

Some tiptoe through tulips.
But I’ll dance on my roof.
Even though some might say,
That I’m more than uncouth.
Those weeds are my daisys.
The antenna my date.
Though I have to admit,
He’s not much of a mate.
Still there’s joy to be found,
Waltzing near a blue sky.
With crops growing in gutters,
I’ve found a natural high.