post
scriptum – R.I.P., Julian Dachshund
I was
awakened by my husband this morning at 4:30 AM and told Julian had died in the
night. There’s no small amount of irony in my premature eulogy to him on his
birthday yesterday and his passing on the same night. I think Julian stayed
alive this last year on sheer willpower to be with his daddies. And sometime in
the middle of last night, sheer willpower was no longer enough.
Julian spent
his last day doing what he has always loved – sniffing around the yard, napping
in a pool of sunshine pouring through the French doors, being played with by his
cats, snoozing with his daddy in the bed and eating his dinner from the Publix
deli. I don’t know if he suffered before he died but what does appear from his
body posture is that he died fairly quickly. May we all be so lucky.
He will be
buried in the pet cemetery in the southeast corner of our yard beneath the
bamboo tree next to his life companion, Simeon, and the other animals who were part
of his life: Charlie Beagle, Ratzinger the six-toed Hemingway cat and
Magnificat, the mystical cat from San Jose. I can keep an eye on all of them
from my meditation bench across the way.
He will also
be remembered in my prayers at the altar I keep to honor all my relations. I
maintain four altars roughly reflecting the four cardinal directions in
different parts of my house each with a different focus. The south altar, a pot
of stones for incense and a small candle, sits beneath a tree shaped
configuration of photos which cover my bedroom wall. At the root of the tree
are the photos of my animal companions, in the mid-level branches my friends
from throughout my life and at the top the photos of my family of birth. At the
heart of the tree is the photo of the 200 year old live oak I grew up climbing in
the front yard we cleared from the forest outside of Bushnell. When I pray at
that altar and leave incense burning, I always give thanks for “All my
relations” as my native American companions have taught me. And I often
conclude that prayer with “Help me remember who I am and where I come from.”
Julian’s collar will join the collars of my animal companions who have gone
before him in the straw basket at the foot of the tree this day.
There are
some who feel the need to debate whether animals have souls or go to heaven. As
for me, I’ve always assumed that wherever I end up, if anywhere, if my animals
are not there, it won’t be heaven. And I am convinced that a life without them
would no doubt have been one closer approximation to hell.
Though my
heart is filled with sadness this morning, I am grateful to this beautiful
little animal for all the joy he has brought my life. As I lay him to rest this
morning amidst prayers, incense and candles, I will repeat the words I have
often said aloud to him during his life: “Well done, good and faithful servant.” And I pray that at the end of my own life,
the same may be said of me.
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
The Rev. Harry Scott Coverston, J.D.,
Ph.D.
Member,
Florida Bar (inactive status)
Priest,
Episcopal Church (Dio. of El Camino Real, CA)
Instructor:
Humanities, Religion, Philosophy of Law
University of
Central Florida, Orlando
If the unexamined life is not worth living,
surely an unexamined belief system, be it religious or political, is not worth
holding.
Most things of value do not lend
themselves to production in sound bytes. ++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
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