Ode to Dharma

 

 “The average dog is a nicer person than the average person.”

--Andy Rooney

 

   We stood there looking down at her. She sat there gazing up at us. She had tried and tried to make it to a standing position, having wet herself in the process, and we tried to boost, support, and lift her. Until this morning, we had always managed to get her 90 lb. body moving. Today, with a finality that shook us to the core, she laid back down. It could not have been more clear. She wanted us to know she was done trying.

   Earlier that morning, we were discussing what we thought was the slow demise of Dharma’s back legs. A trip to the vet the week before determined that our 13 ½ year old Lab-Doberman was suffering from gradual nerve deterioration in her spine. For the last couple of years, she had become slower and weaker, but she figured out how  to acclimate herself to her old-age problems. She could still pull herself up onto the couch, and still loved her car rides. She avoided, smartly, the uncarpeted areas of our home (and any other buildings) like the plague. Our house eventually became a patchwork of area rugs and runners in order that no room would be inaccessible to her. Sometime around autumn, she stopped joining us in the basement and in our upper loft. No more stairways.

   “I just want to see her make it to spring and summer,” I said to Gary. “She deserves to get to smell the green grass and to sit out back surveying her ‘kingdom’.” We talked about when the time came, that we might choose cremation for her, or that we might make a place for her in our woods—her woods. It’s been a difficult winter with so much ice and deep snow. Her world shrunk from her 20 acres of forest, wild flower garden, and corn field to a narrow path that we shoveled from the back door up to the garden, where the snow is not so deep. We thought surely she would get one last opportunity to get out to the woods, even if we had to tote her there in a wagon. “How will we know when it’s her time?” The conversation continued. “She’ll let us know.” So Gary and I sat with that thought as we sipped our morning coffee. We felt a certain peace that we’d know what to do when the time came. Little did we realize that just two hours later, “that time” would abruptly come.

   Dharma was Kaye Bird’s dog. When she and Gary retired and moved home to Wisconsin from Pennsylvania, they did so “dog-less.” Up to that point they had been the lucky pet owners of a Lab named Puddles, and later on, Presley the Border Collie, both remarkable, friendly dogs. Now, without the responsibility of dog care, Kaye and Gary planned to travel, attend concerts and explore their beloved Wisconsin. Their cat, Maggie, would be an only child. Around the end of their first year as fancy-free retirees, however, Kaye began to get the itch for a puppy once again. Living in the country demanded it, after all. Every six weeks or so, the irresistible face of a dog would pop up in Gary’s email; Kaye’s sly attempt to soften him up. And soften him up she did. Ultimately, they made a trip to the Red Wing Humane Society. The story goes that while all the other puppies in the litter of Lab-Dobermans were in the back “playing cards”, Dharma, who was not a gambler, stayed out front and noticed Kaye. Who adopted whom is still a question unanswered. There was no alternative for them but to bring this friendly puppy home. This tiny black “person” who could not even climb the front steps grew up to become a silky, shiny, enormous beauty.

   They named Dharma after Jenna Elfman’s character in the sitcom “Dharma & Greg”, but the word “dharma” is also a Hindu word that translates “righteousness,” “merit”, and “goodness”. How apt.  She was both noble and loyal, and silly as heck.  She was the proud commandress of a 1968 Cadillac convertible, routinely chauffeured by her master Gary around countrysides and fast food drive-throughs. Dharma was also sole possessor of the back seat of our Buick Enclave--she shared her turf with no one…not willingly anyway-- a well-deserved perk from her position as Welcoming Committee for every airport run.

   She was a well-known fixture at Handy Andy Park, Wind Mill Park and the Martell Forest. A local expert on the Rush River, she headed up many a tour of this pristine waterway. Her trail guide skills were second to none. Time and time again she guided potentially lost grandchildren and visitors safely through her forest and back to the main house for lunch. Dharma was an author. She even contributed a column to the Bird’s Eye View once, and was a feature inspiration of  various Christmas letters. Her photogenic beauty was the theme of several years of calendars, coveted by the most distinguished canine connoisseurs in the Bird family ‘et al’. As her personal photographer, I can attest to her impressive amount of “Likes” on both Facebook and Instagram. Every UPS delivery person, letter carrier, FedEx driver, and LP gas provider was greeted with just one resounding “Woof” and assenting tail-wag. She lived without an enemy in the world…unless you ask the mice, squirrels, and chipmunks—(Mums the word! We haven’t informed them of her passing yet, although we think the squirrels have their suspicions).

   As for me, Dharma generously invited me into the Bird Fam almost 5 years ago, when she discovered that “Julie keeps chicken flavored dog treats in the trunk of her car.” She proceeded to initiate me into trail walking, river wading, dog hip massaging, belly scratching, and meal preparation. Again, who adopted whom?

   There was not a more contented spirit, not a more willing trail blazer, not a more congenial travelling companion. Not a more beautiful soul. But today she looked up at us from her place where she lay, and told us she had to go. Dharma Dog Bird 7/6/09 - 3/18/23