Looking for a Rufous

Morty’s gone, but not forgotten. We will miss him in so many ways. Someone, a sibling, said something that really resonated (hope the sibling doesn’t mind me quoting her):

“BUT if one is a Buddhist, there is a theory that being born as a dog is the best incarnation a sentient being can have…outside of being born human, because dogs are the most human of all animals and develop tremendous qualities of love, devotion, trust. Let’s hear it for Mort! Hip hip hurah! Hip hip hurrah!”

I won’t pass judgement on the religious part – I don’t think that’s relevant to the tone of what this post is trying to convey – but I agree 100% on the qualities that dogs possess.

Scientists say that there is a two-way transfer of peace, reduced stress, or whatever you choose to call it, when a human and a dog interact in a quiet encounter. This interaction results in a chemical change (sorry I can’t name the actual chemical that produces the calming effect) in both the dog and the human. Who needs Valium or Prozac when you can just spend a few moments with your dog?

Just a few words about him. He was an orphan roaming the streets of Cornelius, Oregon – needless to say that made him street-wise just learning to survive, which may explain his having such a voracious appetite for anything that resembled food. He became a ward of the local animal shelter and a friend saw him and recommended him. It didn’t take him long to become a member of our family and further develop himself as a “muncher”. It made it hard to maintain a healthy weight for him, although he was athletic in his early years. He liked his walks and could far outpace me in a sprint. Boomer, our other dog, became his close buddy, and I often took them both on walks (actually “sniffs”) together. Boomer really misses him.

In his later years, he lost his hearing and his sight. It was both sad and funny to see him try to negotiate our backyard, often getting stuck in a corner or behind the wheelbarrow. After he lost his hearing he never barked, and he had enough light sensitivity left that he would flinch when he was in the bright sunlight (on the rare occasion that it was bright in our rainy town).

For anyone who has had to put down a pet, you know what that’s like. We put it off for a long time. Late at night I would “converse” with Morty and ask him if it was time to go. I don’t think he was in pain, but he was just existing, although his subtle expressions of love, like a couple of wags of his tail, never wavered. Finally I made the call, and the vet came to the house. His passing was very humane and peaceful, not rushed in any way. I had spent the previous weekend and that morning saying goodbye to him. I buried Morty next to the apple tree in the back yard in his soft bed with some treats. My eight-year old grandson came up with his epitaph (I inscribed it on a concrete block) that says:

“Here Lies Morty, the Awesome Dog, Died Feb. 4, 2013.”

We will miss you a lot, Morty. Thank you for all the years of your love and companionship.

I’ll try to find a good photo of him to post. I did find one – see it under Photography.