Early in January, we heard from our neighbours, Jared and Jessika, that good old Rudder had died at age 16.
“We wanted to let you know because you shared in the life of our special flower 🌹😇, whether as a puppy in Alaska, a mischievous coyot in the Desolation Wilderness, or a relentless about-towner on the beaches and bogs of the Peninsula. Thank you for all the love you gave Rudder and our family — we sure miss his ornery, fuzzy butt.”
I wept over him. He was a dog of great dignity, at least when I knew him in his later years starting in 2014 when he became our neighbour. In his younger days, he was the inspiration for one of the dogs in this logo for the Cranberrian Fair.
This month, I read Faithful by Alice Hoffman and found this passage that reminded me of Rudder.
Current Google street view, taken in 2013, Rudder at home
I asked Allan to find photos of Rudder. (I have photos, too, but mine are not as organized as Allan’s.) The photos told the story of my quest to get Rudder to be my buddy.
(Rudder’s people had a shop at the start of the approach road for their Starvation Alley cranberry juice products.)
Rudder was slowing down and could no longer go running with Jared, who told me that he would sometimes run around the block instead of a distance so that he could say hi to Rudder again.
I would give him treats, so he started to come over to see us sometimes.
He had gotten stiff and would think for a long time before lying down.
I found a few photos that had been published here:
I doted on that good boy and will miss him.
As always when a good dog dies, I reread this poem, which was first shared to me by our friend J9:
The House Dog's Grave (Haig, an English bulldog)
I’ve changed my ways a little; I cannot now
Run with you in the evenings along the shore,
Except in a kind of dream; and you, if you dream a moment,
You see me there.
So leave awhile the paw-marks on the front door
Where I used to scratch to go out or in,
And you’d soon open; leave on the kitchen floor
The marks of my drinking-pan
I cannot lie by your fire as I used to do
On the warm stone,
Nor at the foot of your bed; no, all the night through
I lie alone.
But your kind thought has laid me less than six feet
Outside your window where firelight so often plays,
And where you sit to read–and I fear often grieving for me–
Every night your lamplight lies on my place.
You, man and woman, live so long, it is hard
To think of you ever dying
A little dog would get tired, living so long.
I hope that when you are lying
Under the ground like me your lives will appear
As good and joyful as mine.
No, dear, that’s too much hope: you are not so well cared for
As I have been.
And never have known the passionate undivided
Fidelities that I knew.
Your minds are perhaps too active, too many-sided. . . .
But to me you were true.
You were never masters, but friends. I was your friend.
I loved you well, and was loved. Deep love endures
To the end and far past the end. If this is my end,
I am not lonely. I am not afraid. I am still yours.
Robinson Jeffers, 1941
We will be raising a toast to him tonight at 7 PM.
I am crying.
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I save your posts to read w a cup of tea, often in the early dark hours if morning as I did just now. With years running down my cheeks now as I write this to thank you for such a beautiful tribute to your friend and neighbor Rudder.
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Thank you.
Sent from my iPad
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I sit grieving over beloved lost friends, four legged and two. I will dote over my own “fuzzy butt” today.
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Thank you.
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“But your kind thought has laid me less rhan six feet outside your window…”
With two of our beloved friends buried in view of our kitchen window, these are the words that undid me.
Cheers to Rudder and the love he gave, and was given.
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I have read that poem dozens of times and even thinking about it undoes me yet I still find comfort in it. My ex took our dog traveling and I don’t even know where Bertie died.
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I feel like I have lost a friend also. You shared lots of pics of everyone’s four legged friends including Rudder and I met him in your neighborhood. He was a star in your show and will be missed.
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Thank you. I will sure miss him. I already do. He hung out in their front yard most days so it seems so empty now.
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Such a good dog. He will be missed. The poem brought tears.
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I love that brilliant poem but I get tears even thinking of it.
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You were so kind to your dear, dignified buddy Rudder. He must have loved walking through your garden, and having pets and treats. I will miss him in your daily posts. Cheers to Rudder!
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Thank you!
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How this hurt my heart. This poem says it all. RIP sweet soul
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He looks like a great dog. He will be missed!
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Yes indeed. Thank you.
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