Reina Sofia Gomez
May 7, 1997- October 09, 2009
I don’t need an urn of ashes to remember Sofie by because I’ll be finding her black hair in the house forever. It is on every rug, behind every door and on every piece of furniture. The space where a dog used to be is large. I don’t have to be careful that I am going to trip over Sofie on the floor at night anymore. You just cannot see a black dog in the night time. We can eat on the couch without someone trying to get the food out of our hands, plates and laps. There is no one to ask to go out just as we are sitting down, then ask to come back in five minutes later. There is no one to walk in the morning. In fact, there is no reason to get up early. There is no need to call Linda every other morning to ask if she fed the dog or not. There are no giant purple bags of dry food to heave in the cart, into the car and into the house. We can leave the gate open. There are no vet bills.
I did not know what I was going to do about the holes in the back yard. I filled them in, put a bench over them and put planters in front of the holes, in order to keep Sofie from digging increasingly larger holes and filling in the window well with dirt. I did my best to keep the hosta in the ground, and not spread all over the stepping stones, which became covered with dirt. At some point I gave up, and just periodically tried to sweep the dirt from the stones, which eventually ran through a mine field of holes around the corner of the house. I never once thought that the solution to the problem of the holes was that Sofie would die. It gives one perspective. Think of all the problems in the world. There is always a solution to the problem, and it is not always the one that we think will do the trick. A permanent solution to a problem is one that will fundamentally change the problem. What is the solution to a dog digging holes in the backyard? If there is no dog, there will be no holes. But is that what we really want? What are we willing to live with in order to have what we really want?
We don’t have to come home to let the dog out anymore. We don’t have to pay for her to be boarded when we go away, then go pick her up when we get home. We don’t even have to come home. We don’t have to do the many, many inconvenient things necessary in order to take care of a dog. But now we don’t have her happy smile every single time we get home. I don’t have her company in the dark, early hours in the winter time, to run with me. I don’t have her warm furry neck to hold when I can’t manage to do anything but cry. That is what I will miss. She was always, always there.
To watch a dog be happy is to be happy. She loved to run, especially free, off of a leash. She could chase a bird down the beach for a long, long way. She would win the tail wagging contest, with the fancy rotating tail wag that she was so generous about. There is nothing better than to see a happy, tired dog at one’s feet. You know you’ve done your job in exercising, feeding and caring for her, and her only job at that point is to be your friend. In that capacity she never let us down. She was always hopeful, always up for whatever we wanted to do. She wanted to be with us wherever we went. Unless, of course, we were going to the vet.
I’ll think of Sofie whenever I am somewhere in nature. She loved to be outdoors, running, sniffing, exploring. She wanted to swim in every pond and puddle, run in every field and crawl under every porch to explore. Sofie wanted to have every experience she could, and never thought about anything else. I have so many things on my mind that I mostly can’t think about what is going on right now. I can’t seem to remember that to be happy is to enjoy now. As Sofie could only live in the now, she did her best to keep us there while she was here. Perhaps the memories of her can help me stay present. Each time I find a long, black dog hair, I’ll use it as a message from Sofie. What is going on right now? How can I better pay attention to it and live in the present? I’ll listen even if it tells me it’s time to vacuum. I’ll live in the present. But I’ll be thinking of Sofie while I’m doing it.
I did not know what I was going to do about the holes in the back yard. I filled them in, put a bench over them and put planters in front of the holes, in order to keep Sofie from digging increasingly larger holes and filling in the window well with dirt. I did my best to keep the hosta in the ground, and not spread all over the stepping stones, which became covered with dirt. At some point I gave up, and just periodically tried to sweep the dirt from the stones, which eventually ran through a mine field of holes around the corner of the house. I never once thought that the solution to the problem of the holes was that Sofie would die. It gives one perspective. Think of all the problems in the world. There is always a solution to the problem, and it is not always the one that we think will do the trick. A permanent solution to a problem is one that will fundamentally change the problem. What is the solution to a dog digging holes in the backyard? If there is no dog, there will be no holes. But is that what we really want? What are we willing to live with in order to have what we really want?
We don’t have to come home to let the dog out anymore. We don’t have to pay for her to be boarded when we go away, then go pick her up when we get home. We don’t even have to come home. We don’t have to do the many, many inconvenient things necessary in order to take care of a dog. But now we don’t have her happy smile every single time we get home. I don’t have her company in the dark, early hours in the winter time, to run with me. I don’t have her warm furry neck to hold when I can’t manage to do anything but cry. That is what I will miss. She was always, always there.
To watch a dog be happy is to be happy. She loved to run, especially free, off of a leash. She could chase a bird down the beach for a long, long way. She would win the tail wagging contest, with the fancy rotating tail wag that she was so generous about. There is nothing better than to see a happy, tired dog at one’s feet. You know you’ve done your job in exercising, feeding and caring for her, and her only job at that point is to be your friend. In that capacity she never let us down. She was always hopeful, always up for whatever we wanted to do. She wanted to be with us wherever we went. Unless, of course, we were going to the vet.
I’ll think of Sofie whenever I am somewhere in nature. She loved to be outdoors, running, sniffing, exploring. She wanted to swim in every pond and puddle, run in every field and crawl under every porch to explore. Sofie wanted to have every experience she could, and never thought about anything else. I have so many things on my mind that I mostly can’t think about what is going on right now. I can’t seem to remember that to be happy is to enjoy now. As Sofie could only live in the now, she did her best to keep us there while she was here. Perhaps the memories of her can help me stay present. Each time I find a long, black dog hair, I’ll use it as a message from Sofie. What is going on right now? How can I better pay attention to it and live in the present? I’ll listen even if it tells me it’s time to vacuum. I’ll live in the present. But I’ll be thinking of Sofie while I’m doing it.
2 comments:
Loren, Linda, Maya and Clay,
My heart is broken about Sophie! My favorite memory of Sophie is how much I loved walking her when I came to visit. Before I became a dog owner, I knew I wanted to have a dog just like Sophie. I remember the time she walked ME to the park, when I didn't know where it was! I can only imagine the empty hole in your life without her there to greet you everyday- but she will always be in your hearts.
-Carly
What a wonderful reflection. I was thinking of my little black cat, Jet, as I wiped up, furry dust balls from under the radiator yesterday. - Charlotte
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