Cedar Snowbounder

 When I wrote last, I felt keenly aware of the myriad of  reasons that I look forward to Thanksgiving as an  occasion on the calendar, especially here in Canada where it sits in the first weeks of October.  These are the  days, when the whirlwind that is our friend Summer gets  a chance to hunker down, and gather all her apples up in preparation for leaving us to face the bitter wits of old man Winter.  Still enjoying some deep golden days and heady wine-sap air, we sit in the tired sunlight on Summer’s velvet cape of autumn, and breathe deep with satisfied thoughts of all the riches we have gathered in; of harvest, of lifetimes of incident and experience, and of family and friends.

Earlier this month we were enjoying spending these last  long days before Summer shrugs with our best friend, Cedar.  She had been feeling a  bit strange for a few days, I would catch her  gazing inwardly at secret thoughts, although  she said she really didn’t want us to be  concerned.  So to shake off our trepidation we  rolled like puppies in the field, where the grasses are whispery with wheaten dryness, and smell like the best roasted Ceylon tea in the world.  Heikki chased his frisbee-flipper and Cedar got to chew upon the very best beaver sticks.  We spent a day in the landscape truck, doing errands in town and delighting in the smells at familiar places and of seeing friends both biped and quadruped.  We stole apples and carrots from Clancy’s breakfast, and crunched them up on the grass where the dew was slippery and sharp on the tongue like the ghost of  snowflakes.

And then, on that last day of thanksgiving when Summer gathered her cape to move on, Cedar Snowbounder decided to travel along with her.

….it’s been two weeks now, and the wet grey clouds that settled in on that day have still not found a better place to be. We who are left here at the lodge to await Winter are feeling bereft, but thankful that our friend did not have to suffer pain, or  feel fear when faced with travelling her last journey onward without us.

Good girl, Cedar.

You were our best companion, a dog like no other, and we will miss you always.

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