Thursday, May 19, 2011
And Now, I Kiss You Goodbye
No, I'm not quitting blogging (despite evidence to the contrary). This is a post that I wrote a week ago, to say goodbye to a friend of mine.
And then Blogger wouldn't let me post, the BASTARD.
And then I got busy and I feel terrible about it. I have many things to say however this is the most urgent, because I need to say goodbye to her.
I have two friends ... well, no, I have more than two (really I do, shut up). But these two friends, Leslie and Elaine, are very special to me.
These ladies have been together for years. They came up here to Canadia to get married (seeing we're all about the gay marrying up here) and tied the knot years ago in the gorgeous flower garden at Park and Tilford, just down the street from where I live (as in 25 minutes' walk, even when you hobble, as I do, like an old bat).
I met them online ... I'm not sure where or how. Through knitting blogs (I used to have a blog. You may have heard about it), mutual friends, that sort of thing.
Years ago, before we'd even met, on my birthday they sent me some beautiful New Zealand roving in my favourite colours, to help me celebrate, and some amazing organic chocolate with raspberries and rosehips in it.
I was incredibly touched.
The first time I met them in person, they graciously invited me to stay in their home. When we got in the door they asked me to sit on the couch, and said that they had rather enthusiastic dogs. I said I didn't have a problem with dogs. Then Elaine said "OK, are you ready?" I said "sure" and ... well ... supposedly she opened a door but I'm still not convinced of that. Dogs started emanating from the walls. No, seriously Right Out of the Fucking Walls. There were thousands of them and all of them wanted to sit on me, sniff me and smooch on me.
I'm like candy to dogs.
No really, if you have a dog and I come to your house, even if the dog doesn't like people he or she will be sitting on top of my head within six minutes. I think it's because I'm mostly made of bacon.
And after all of these giant dogs (two were Greyhounds, we're not talking a flock of chihuahuas here) got over trying to kiss me and sit on me and somehow oh my fucking god just get spit ALL OVER ME and live in my PANTS (it was Brody, who is not a greyhound, who was mostly about the getting in my pockets and becoming part of me) and they had sort of calmed down a bit, the most special dog came over to see if she would approve of me or not.
Kiska was a purebred West Boloshnian Flugenschnitzel (I'm likely off on the breed, but it's close). She was about 12 inches high, two feet long, and had a tongue hinged in the middle of her body somewhere. I'm thinking she might have been part aardvark. She walked up and looked at me and then hopped up next to me and wrapped her tongue around my neck about three times (I may perhaps be indulging in a little exaggeration here, but I have NEVER met a dog with a longer tongue). Apparently I'd met the requirements and was allowed to stay.
The last time I visited them I slept in their guest room on their beautiful new bed with the lovely new sheets. Piewacket, the little cat who had come to stay with them when my beloved Simon (a cat who I used to sit up and read to all night ... and with whom I sometimes surfed the net for porn) passed on, came into the room and killed spiders for me. He killed many. He killed one spider on the wall about ten times. I didn't have the heart to tell him that it was just a mark on the paint and that I wasn't scared of spiders in the first place. After Pie finally calmed down, Kiska decided to do a walkabout and came to my room. She hopped on the bed and floofed about a bit, wrapped her tongue three or four times around my neck, cuddled down beside me for half an hour or so and then went back to sleep with her beloved Leslie.
I loved that dog a whole lot.
And you'll likely notice that I'm using the past tense here.
Kiska left us on May 11th.
My heart hurts; but I'm so glad I had the opportunity to know her. I treasure the time I spent with her, and am glad I met her approval. She was a lovely soul and I will miss her.
Godspeed, little Wienerfloofle.
And then Blogger wouldn't let me post, the BASTARD.
And then I got busy and I feel terrible about it. I have many things to say however this is the most urgent, because I need to say goodbye to her.
I have two friends ... well, no, I have more than two (really I do, shut up). But these two friends, Leslie and Elaine, are very special to me.
These ladies have been together for years. They came up here to Canadia to get married (seeing we're all about the gay marrying up here) and tied the knot years ago in the gorgeous flower garden at Park and Tilford, just down the street from where I live (as in 25 minutes' walk, even when you hobble, as I do, like an old bat).
I met them online ... I'm not sure where or how. Through knitting blogs (I used to have a blog. You may have heard about it), mutual friends, that sort of thing.
Years ago, before we'd even met, on my birthday they sent me some beautiful New Zealand roving in my favourite colours, to help me celebrate, and some amazing organic chocolate with raspberries and rosehips in it.
I was incredibly touched.
The first time I met them in person, they graciously invited me to stay in their home. When we got in the door they asked me to sit on the couch, and said that they had rather enthusiastic dogs. I said I didn't have a problem with dogs. Then Elaine said "OK, are you ready?" I said "sure" and ... well ... supposedly she opened a door but I'm still not convinced of that. Dogs started emanating from the walls. No, seriously Right Out of the Fucking Walls. There were thousands of them and all of them wanted to sit on me, sniff me and smooch on me.
I'm like candy to dogs.
No really, if you have a dog and I come to your house, even if the dog doesn't like people he or she will be sitting on top of my head within six minutes. I think it's because I'm mostly made of bacon.
And after all of these giant dogs (two were Greyhounds, we're not talking a flock of chihuahuas here) got over trying to kiss me and sit on me and somehow oh my fucking god just get spit ALL OVER ME and live in my PANTS (it was Brody, who is not a greyhound, who was mostly about the getting in my pockets and becoming part of me) and they had sort of calmed down a bit, the most special dog came over to see if she would approve of me or not.
Kiska was a purebred West Boloshnian Flugenschnitzel (I'm likely off on the breed, but it's close). She was about 12 inches high, two feet long, and had a tongue hinged in the middle of her body somewhere. I'm thinking she might have been part aardvark. She walked up and looked at me and then hopped up next to me and wrapped her tongue around my neck about three times (I may perhaps be indulging in a little exaggeration here, but I have NEVER met a dog with a longer tongue). Apparently I'd met the requirements and was allowed to stay.
The last time I visited them I slept in their guest room on their beautiful new bed with the lovely new sheets. Piewacket, the little cat who had come to stay with them when my beloved Simon (a cat who I used to sit up and read to all night ... and with whom I sometimes surfed the net for porn) passed on, came into the room and killed spiders for me. He killed many. He killed one spider on the wall about ten times. I didn't have the heart to tell him that it was just a mark on the paint and that I wasn't scared of spiders in the first place. After Pie finally calmed down, Kiska decided to do a walkabout and came to my room. She hopped on the bed and floofed about a bit, wrapped her tongue three or four times around my neck, cuddled down beside me for half an hour or so and then went back to sleep with her beloved Leslie.
I loved that dog a whole lot.
And you'll likely notice that I'm using the past tense here.
Kiska left us on May 11th.
My heart hurts; but I'm so glad I had the opportunity to know her. I treasure the time I spent with her, and am glad I met her approval. She was a lovely soul and I will miss her.
Godspeed, little Wienerfloofle.
# posted by Rabbitch @ 5:08 AM 
Comments:
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Oh Bunnie, this is the best eulogy for Kiska that there ever could be. She was our West Iberian Fluglewiener (it's the tongue that differentiates this breed from the more common Boloshnian Flugenschnitzel). I am desperately lost without her, as is Leslie. Thank you dear one for giving us this wonderful gift. It is good to know we weren't the only ones who saw how special Kiska was.
Saying good-bye to a four-legged friend is so hard. I know that kind of heart-hurt. Hope sharing your memory of Kiska with us eases it just a little.
How better to share your memory of one loved and lost than to make us laugh with her story, and bring a tear to our eyes. I live in a housefull of hounds that suffer from EGD (Excessive Greeting Disorder) and what you describe is oh so familiar... right down to the "most special dog" approval (mine's a whippet called Finn).
Run free Kiska x
Run free Kiska x
My sister & never really had to deal with death. Or maybe we just glossed it over. When our Grandmother died (many years ago now) we sat in the pews telling each other all the funny things we could remember. We had the church laughing and crying at the same time. A few years ago we did the same with a much beloved cat.
Fond memories are always the best way to celebrate a life. Thank you for sharing this!
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Fond memories are always the best way to celebrate a life. Thank you for sharing this!
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