Friday, 23 December 2011

Thursday 22 December 2011

My ending is beginning. 

Forgive me for sounding melodramatic - perhaps it is an after-effect of my former theatrical days.

I hope that, all being well, I will see the new year in.  However, I am not deceived as to the unlikelihood that I shall live to see the end of January 2012.  My 'Evolution' series is complete and ready to be shared with you.  I am two-thirds of the way through the amusing (although I bark it myself) post I originally intended to publish this evening (Ewan and his late eggy-misadventures) and hope to finish it for you tomorrow.  But late developments mean that I can be nothing but open with you at this precise moment in time.  Please forgive me.



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I saw Kipper this evening.  My old friend from the Dog Rescue home (Kipper).  I was in a deep, deep sleep.  He was standing, strong and proud, in a lush green grassy field, his mighty tail wagging wildly at the sight of me.
"Jasper!" he barked, grinning at me.

I was puzzled - how did he know my name?

Kipper grinned again, winked, and looked over his shoulder.  Behind him, a short way off, stood my late wife Isolde - also looking strong, healthy, whole again and wagging her pretty tail.  "It's herself." grinned Kipper, wagging his own tail again.  "She says you don't like being called Captain these days.  Your name's Jasper..."

I opened my mouth to reply - but no sound came out.  As I blinked, the scene began to fade away.  I didn't want them to go.  "It's OK mate," barked Kipper, as I felt myself falling away, "Don't be afraid.  It doesn't hurt.  We'll come to meet you.  It's OK..."  And then, he was gone.

Coughing and spluttering, I opened my eyes.  It was pitch-black and I was in my bedroom.  Sleepily, my partner turned over at her end of the bed and mumbled "You OK, Jazz?" 

I coughed again.  My partner gently manoeuvred me closer to her and placed a blanket around me.  I gazed up at her, and she, in return, looked into my eyes.

And she saw.

I wish this could be as easy for her as it will be for me.  After all, events are now removed from my paws.  The hardest things I have yet to do (and in these I have no choice) - are to wait and to bark goodbye.

1 comment:

Lance said...

Oh Jazz...

...words fail me.

But I still send the healthiest & happiest thoughts and energy I can muster -- to both you and your Ruth.

XXOO, Lance