For me, and maybe my sister Stacey it goes back to Amigo, a Bedlington Terrier that we had prior to having Charley the Beagle, the only dog who perhaps had his own newspaper column,m "Charley's Tips For People Owners" which ran in the Anacortes ____________ (I can't remember the name of the newspaper in Anacortes, WA that my folks worked at...chemo brain, you know. And I have another chemo brain incidedent coming forthwith.
Anywho, Keving has given me several books to read to help me through the drudgery and tediousness of thei cancer recovery gig.
I know Kevin is a dog lover because one of he books he gave me was, "Your Cat Is Dead."
He gave me another book...and here comes the chemo brain...but I can't remember the title and I think I borrowed it out to someone cuz I can't find it, but it's got my name in it so I hope it comes back. It was/is a marvelous book except I couldn't bring myself to read the last few pages where the dog-protagonist passes away.
The last book, which prompts this blog entry is called, "The Art of Racing In The Rain', is a marvelous x 12 read, and again, for the same reason i am holding off reading the last few pages.
In both books that artesian well of tears which wells within me spewed forth what seemed like gallons of tears as I read up to where I stopped reading,knowing what the ending was going to be.
There is a part, before the crying part, that exemplifies, perhaps, my gig with cancer...
From
"The Art of Racing In The Rain"
~~Garth Stein
pg. 257
{A novel told from the canine perspective}
"What is the real truth regarding the death of Ayrton Senna (a race car driver in the book who died during a car race), who was only thirty-four years old?
I know the truth, and I will tell you now:
He was admired, loved, cheered, honored, respected. In life as well as death. A great man, he is. A great d man, he was. A great man, he will be.
He died that day because his body had served its purpose. His soul had done what it came to do, learned what it came to learn, and then was free to leave. And I knew, as Denny (his "master") sped me toward the doctor who would fix me (he just got hit by a car), that if I had already accomplished what I was set out to accomplish here on earth, if I had already learned wha I was meant to learn, I would have left the curb one second later than I had, and I would have been killed instantly by that car.
But I was not killed. Because I was not finished. I still had work to do."
