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- Story Listed as: True Life For Adults
- Theme: Drama / Human Interest
- Subject: Biography / Autobiography
- Published: 01/16/2012
THE PARTING
Born 1952, F, from Penrose, Colorado, United StatesTHE PARTING
I watched my Hybrid-Wolf Kody say goodbye, in the mystical demeanor of his wolfish-way, and non-dramatic: he licked the freezing rain from the dog-puppies’ drenched coats, groomed them incessantly until they gleamed in what was left of struggling sunlight.
Instinctively he knew. He sensed, with tail-between-legs resolve, the impending parting that too soon would be forthcoming. It would arrive only momentarily but lives, his, theirs, ours as humans, would forever be changed. Whatever time and space to him can be understood. An hour could feel like eternity, eternity could come and go in the flutter of a wild blink. I wasn’t going to hide it from him.
After dusk made its somber appearance, I watched Kody’s massive, once proud silvery blackish-brown form slump away in the ever enveloping darkness that swallowed him to unknown parts of the huge fenced in acreage and beyond. Slowly vanishing into a swirling mist, his slender, shadowy ghost was at last out of sight. He severed the chord as quiet, as abrupt, as he possibly could. The puppies, for the last time in their tiny, dismantled world, all knowing and frantically distressed, called back in high-pitched whoops and whimpers, bellowing out for him to return.
Not one last time, no flicker of wavering regret or remorseful hesitation once the final choice had been decided, did he ever look back. Love, so achingly fleeting, vast as tundra and just as unconditional and unpredictable; painfully bitter and yet so virgin sweet, deep and dangerously lingering, even for the Animal Kingdom.
That’s the way of a wolf, whether wild or domesticated:
~ They never say goodbye twice.
(1993)
~ ~
Author's Note:
This story (true, biographical account) is dedicated to my Hybrid-Wolf Kody (picture of me and Kody above; sadly, Kody is long deceased now, this photograph was taken over 20 years ago.) Kody (78% Canadian Tundra Wolf, the remaining % Alaskan Malamute), shared our small farm with horses, goats, cats and a multitude of regular breed dogs and one in particular, a female American Eskimo Husky we named Krystal. Krystal, a stray we adopted, soon after gave birth to a litter of eight half-breed pups (father unknown as our male dogs were all neutered and she was pregnant when she first started hanging around our place, waiting for an invitation to join our family). Finally the day came when we found homes for all the cute puppies. As hard as it was, we couldn’t keep everyone, so the following day we had new owners coming to pick up their new puppy and take it home. It’s difficult to assume whether or not the puppies knew. Kody was a different matter. He “sensed” something was up. (Wolves are highly intelligent). So, I want to think he was keenly aware of what was soon to transpire and, in his own sensitive way, he wanted this last session with them to be special, yet not linger. So, as not to prolong the inevitable parting, he literally slumped off (I watched from our wrap-around porch) into a part of the huge fenced acreage we had for them all where the puppies had no access beyond a certain point. I swear, as he retreated along the fence line into some trees and shrubs, he didn't look back. This account was the best as I remembered it in my mind, and in my broken heart. I can still hear, to this day, the puppies calling after him, to no avail. But I can't put the profound and poignant sadness into the right words. I gave up. I guess it’s one of those writings that you will just have to feel.
© Susan Joyner-Stumpf
THE PARTING(Susan Joyner-Stumpf)
THE PARTING
I watched my Hybrid-Wolf Kody say goodbye, in the mystical demeanor of his wolfish-way, and non-dramatic: he licked the freezing rain from the dog-puppies’ drenched coats, groomed them incessantly until they gleamed in what was left of struggling sunlight.
Instinctively he knew. He sensed, with tail-between-legs resolve, the impending parting that too soon would be forthcoming. It would arrive only momentarily but lives, his, theirs, ours as humans, would forever be changed. Whatever time and space to him can be understood. An hour could feel like eternity, eternity could come and go in the flutter of a wild blink. I wasn’t going to hide it from him.
After dusk made its somber appearance, I watched Kody’s massive, once proud silvery blackish-brown form slump away in the ever enveloping darkness that swallowed him to unknown parts of the huge fenced in acreage and beyond. Slowly vanishing into a swirling mist, his slender, shadowy ghost was at last out of sight. He severed the chord as quiet, as abrupt, as he possibly could. The puppies, for the last time in their tiny, dismantled world, all knowing and frantically distressed, called back in high-pitched whoops and whimpers, bellowing out for him to return.
Not one last time, no flicker of wavering regret or remorseful hesitation once the final choice had been decided, did he ever look back. Love, so achingly fleeting, vast as tundra and just as unconditional and unpredictable; painfully bitter and yet so virgin sweet, deep and dangerously lingering, even for the Animal Kingdom.
That’s the way of a wolf, whether wild or domesticated:
~ They never say goodbye twice.
(1993)
~ ~
Author's Note:
This story (true, biographical account) is dedicated to my Hybrid-Wolf Kody (picture of me and Kody above; sadly, Kody is long deceased now, this photograph was taken over 20 years ago.) Kody (78% Canadian Tundra Wolf, the remaining % Alaskan Malamute), shared our small farm with horses, goats, cats and a multitude of regular breed dogs and one in particular, a female American Eskimo Husky we named Krystal. Krystal, a stray we adopted, soon after gave birth to a litter of eight half-breed pups (father unknown as our male dogs were all neutered and she was pregnant when she first started hanging around our place, waiting for an invitation to join our family). Finally the day came when we found homes for all the cute puppies. As hard as it was, we couldn’t keep everyone, so the following day we had new owners coming to pick up their new puppy and take it home. It’s difficult to assume whether or not the puppies knew. Kody was a different matter. He “sensed” something was up. (Wolves are highly intelligent). So, I want to think he was keenly aware of what was soon to transpire and, in his own sensitive way, he wanted this last session with them to be special, yet not linger. So, as not to prolong the inevitable parting, he literally slumped off (I watched from our wrap-around porch) into a part of the huge fenced acreage we had for them all where the puppies had no access beyond a certain point. I swear, as he retreated along the fence line into some trees and shrubs, he didn't look back. This account was the best as I remembered it in my mind, and in my broken heart. I can still hear, to this day, the puppies calling after him, to no avail. But I can't put the profound and poignant sadness into the right words. I gave up. I guess it’s one of those writings that you will just have to feel.
© Susan Joyner-Stumpf
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