We met her at the humane shelter outside Ulster in Bradford County. She was about two years old and they’d named her Gidget. What a hell of a thing to do to an innocent dog! We brought her home and quickly renamed her Marigold.
She was probably a whippet mix, skinny and put together like the barely fleshed skeleton of a dog. Linda likes that look. To me, dogs, even mid-sized ones, should be burly and physically assertive.
Marigold was definitely and rightly Linda’s dog. I didn’t cotton to her at first (another of those truly weird expressions), and for the first couple years I didn’t know what to make of her.
But as I walked her every morning, down the trail I’d made through our woods (almost always accompanied by Tigger, the world’s best cat), we developed a slow accommodation.
About four years in, she showed a lump on her left hind leg. I didn’t pay that much attention at first; Linda was a lot more concerned, Last year we took her in to the vet’s, they biopsied, and yes – cancer. During the operation, they found more on her abdomen: two different forms of cancer, one a type that always recurs. So, the outlook was, keep an eye on her, but know that her time was limited.
Enough about her illness.
This is really about Marigold the person and what she taught me, what I learned from her this year, and how I ended up seeing her as one of the finest people of any species I’ve known.
As she brew gimpier, and the morning walks more problematic, I spent more time with her and came to realize that she was weirdly empathic. She knew when my spirits were down, often before I did, and was there to comfort me while I was trying to comfort her. I came to like her more, then like her a whole hell of a lot, then love her.
This week, when she had almost stopped eating, we took her back to the vet for stronger pain and appetite pills, but nada – she moved slower, was more uncomfortable, uninterested even in roast chicken, her favorite.
So yesterday we made the choice that she couldn’t. She’s gone, and I’m more stricken that I thought could be possible. The good side, for me, is that I did find out who she was and that I let her see it. And I know she did. She as much as told me. Thank you, Marigold, from the bottom of my so often constricted heart.
I wonder what I’m supposed to do with grief? All the well-wishers tell us it’s for healing or some other form of resolution. I would not include it in my design for a universe.
So now I need to concentrate on the wonders I have left to love. There’s Tigger, who, as I continually repeat, is the best cat in the world. There’s Linda, who is simply beyond belief, beyond good luck or reason, beyond anyone or any blessing I could have imagined.
Think of this as a strange Valentine thanks to Linda, to Tigger, and, in the depths of my feeling, to Marigold, who taught an old man a lesson he should have learned long ago.
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All mapmakers must now relabel the salt water dish below our country the Gulf of Asinine Dispute.
And celebrate the resurgence of Mt. McKickme, renamed to its original, indigenous name of Denali, then re-renamed for an American president who loved tariffs.
And I personally suggest that the Oval Office now be referred to as the Anal Office.
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At Amazon, Jeff Bezos pretty much invented online shopping as we now know it by putting customer satisfaction first in every consideration. Later, he bought the Washington Post and did the exact opposite, making decisions that pissed off his subscribers, who are leaving in droves.
Yet he has been consistent in his treatment of his workers. At Amazon, they were and are a form of poorly maintained machine. And at the Post, he has gone to lengths to piss off his leading workers, the reporters.
* * * *
I plan to create a computer program for the rapid development and distribution of humor. It will be called the Giddyapp.
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A tech-designed online site upgrade, when not tested by actual users, is like hiring a butler who deals ideally with the family but has no concept how to greet someone who comes to the door.
lickhaven 