Play

Sarrah loved to chase after a thrown ball in the confines of the backyard.  She typically returned with it, occasionally just close enough to make a high speed teasing pass, but most of the time right back to me.  However, she insisted on a contest of wills and strength, you had to take the ball from her all the while with a closed mouth growl from down deep to spice up the game.  She learned to add leverage by lifting her front feet, twist her head quickly from side to side and thrust backward in attempts to break my grip from the slippery wet ball.  She did very rarely simply drop the ball, but the real fun for her was in the struggle.

Since tug-of-war was her preference, I got a rope, not just any, one from a pet super store.  This task specific two foot long green and white rope had three large knots for doing battle.  Sarrah loved this rope!  We got to where I could swing her around, completely off the ground, growling the entire time.  Laughing caused deeper louder growls, adding audible competition to our sport.  Our record was five times around, before one of us was too dizzy to continue.  She would also grab one end and run with it, shaking the rope around like a medieval weapon, occasionally very effective accidental weapon.  Many times I would throw the rope for her version of “fetch”.

Occasionally we would play rough, wrestling on the floor or in the grass.  Sarrah would act ‘all tough’ growl and play bite, gingerly but with a firm hold.  At times she’d run away crazy eyed and then straight back at me in a frenzy, raise up on her hind legs with her front legs spread like a praying mantis, mouth open wide.  Sometimes jumping to kick at me in some kind of canine Kung Fu that she had come up with.

On occasion one of us would inadvertently get hurt a little, but it was all in good fun.

Dalmatian!

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Sarrah usually even enjoyed the attention from hoards of kids who are in excess when the weather is nice (Kids instantly forget everything they’ve ever been told in regards to “strangers”, let alone running toward me and Sarrah).  Thanks to Sarrah’s typical patience and our many visits to parks, beaches, trails and sidewalks many kids of all ages got to meet a real life “Dalmatian!”   I couldn’t even guess how many hundreds of these people enjoyed their gift of meeting Sarrah.  She was the most popular and often photographed dog, every time.

Gems

We continued to discover and frequent gems of common interest.  A favorite was a park, nearby.  We became regulars to Salt Water State Park, a nice mile plus round trip walk from home.  Here the small public beach is choked by privately owned beaches, sea walls, rock cliffs, logs and rules.  The semi-sandy beach is about forty yards by twenty at high tide.  Currently more than half covered by the naturally occurring, growing… log pile gifted by storms and kept in place by law.  In the summer months the tide recedes further, if lucky enough or planned you can carefully walk out another fifty yards or so, on the Barnacle covered rocks amongst the tide pools.  Here at an edge of the Puget Sound, where the ocean’s water works its way around the San Juan Islands, the small waves are more like swells.  These tired waves sort of heave themselves, splashing, thudding and pounding against the rocks.  Despite its shortcomings, Sarrah loved this place instantly.  She would often Insist on going there by taking a hard right, instead of the left turn on our usual daily trek down Marine View Drive.  I am certain that my occasional ‘giving in’ further fueled this action, but making time to enjoy small victories is good for all.  We probably hoofed that all terrain trek at least five hundred times over the years, and around one hundred shorter versioned, driven in stops.

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Sarrah loved the Puget Sound, especially all of the creatures and smells that come with it.  She happily stole bits of clam, crab and mussels from harassed crows and seagulls, who had dropped them onto the paved pathways to break them open.  We walked the beach in search of sea glass (to collect) and sand dollars (to throw back), along the gurgling creek looking for fish, around the grounds and trails for less crowded nature.

Salted Air

Sarrah seemed to have an affinity for salted air, in all of its forms: warm and strong, crisp and bright, cold and damp or even the bone soaking kind driven by wind.  She led me to find and appreciate the less popular versions of marine air, which are highly addictive and ultimately better.

Winter Walking

The Pacific Northwest offers dampness in the longer evenings, the kind that makes bones ache a little, in the aged and the damaged.  These cold night walks were my least favorite, but also became part of our routine.  I found that ending each day with a stroll does let mental junk settle and unwind springs.  Living near the Puget Sound often brings moist cool marine air induced fog.  This heavy, thick, ‘cotton like’ mysterious air requires a little more caution when walking amongst distracted moving vehicles, due to poor visibility as it shrouds depth and changes perception.  Sarrah and I typically walked three times each day; we experienced all flavors of the weather that come to the Pacific Northwest.  Some varieties were appreciated more than others, but we grew to enjoy all of these experiences, together.

Angel

A little dog lives on a shelf near my kitchen window, the rectangle of glass that I stand in front of while I wait.  Waiting for coffee to drip, food to cook and often be eaten at the sink underneath.  The main window where I quietly watch some of the world pass on by and think or try not to.

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Coffee cups, Calendars and Pictures are some of the Pop Culture commercial products that turn into gifts when you walk down the path of life with a pet.

Before Sarrah’s first Christmas She was given her own ornament.

Initially I thought this odd little white dog with black spots, beige and brown wings, a gold wire halo and string to hang it was strange, a dog ornament for a dog.

As newness of these trinkets wears off, they blend into cupboards, shelves, walls and some boxes along with the rest of a person’s possessions.  Quietly these items are not really even noticed for a few years and then they become souvenirs of a life.

The little Angel Dog that I once thought odd came out for Christmas 2010 and never went back.

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Eye of December

Another newer wrinkle of our annual tradition in what has evolved into the month of Christmas, we escaped to the Beach House for the weekend prior to the actual holiday.  Just Nissa and I with our pets, went to get away from it all and make peace with the season.  This is a nice, quiet, uneventful time to unwind and reflect in our place of refuge, sort of ‘the eye in the storm’ that is December.  This last time Sarrah was clingier and wanted to sit in my lap, many times.  She wanted to do this often in her early years, but with wiggly youthful restlessness.  Now she wanted to be still and press her forehead against me, perhaps bonding in reflection.  I wonder if there was a tear in her eye.