After nearly fourteen years on this earth we are losing a foundational piece of our combined history: A puppy in Savannah . . . Ron's companion and spirit-guide through his coming out and divorce, rising to "fame" as the namesake of our Siena Society, and a tail wagging, sloppy licking "welcomer" of her other dad.
Ron is losing one of his familiars. He wrote to many of our friends: " . . .Siena has always been at the heart of our life warming our home with her comfy being, exploring both the Atlantic & Pacific Coasts with us on vacations, romping through the rivers, streams, and tidal creeks of Savannah and the Pacific Northwest. Exploring the islands of Coastal Georgia & South Carolina, and hiking the Cascades & Olympics in Washington State. Sitting with us at the Christmas tree every year as we opened presents... And ALWAYS under the dinner table, ON TOP of our feet, as we shared dinner at the end of each day...We've never known "us" without her."
With heavy hearts, we move through these days. On Thursday of next week; a vet will come to our house and be the medical presence as we (Ron, me & Gino) help transition Siena from her weakened and worn body into a permanent place in our hearts and our stories. Gino, deliberately brought into our lives 6 years ago, will assume his role as our only dog. The vet who will come here on Thursday, as well as many of our friends who have lived through this painful experience, are encouraging us to spend lots of time petting, holding and talking to Siena, as well as being aware of how Gino will experience the loss of his pack mate. Ours will be a sad household for a while.
Growing up a "country boy", we had dogs inside and out, most of then large breeds. It was different in the country: When you lost a dog, it was because that dog knew it was time to die and so it went up into the woods behind our house and never came back. Or, a car hit the dog as it walked unleashed along dark country roads. Our dad would "take care" of the dog after finding it along the road or in a ditch. This remembrance is not mean to be disrespectful to the loss we face with Siena's death. It is just my way of dealing with the depth of sadness I feel already. Siena is the first dog I have been "allowed" to love with such attachment and depth, so that a moment like this feels as if a knife has cut deep into my heart.
Ron has called her his one great dog. For me, she has been the dog who has stayed and taught me how to be one great human.