Why I'm Sorry You're Gone, Thor Dog of Thunder
I think the Hults who's taking it the hardest is Emily. They were equals in each other's eyes, and since he'd always been there for her I think she saw him much like Ben sees Milo: as another her, a part of her which had always and would always be there. She's skulking a little more. She's more likely to nap near us or touching us, less likely to nap on her own. And I think it's been more than a day since she obnoxiously refused to stop dropping her slobbery ball in my lap, insisting that I play with her. She doesn't bark so much without her favorite little bad influence to mimic, and while I'm sure I'll appreciate the quiet very soon, it's sad today.
I sometimes talk to my father here in the blog so maybe I can talk to Thor as well. If they read blogs in the afterlife, then they probably scratch poodle brains too, and just maybe my old Dad is flanked now by Sam (the silver Miniature I grew up with) and Thor.
Thor, I will miss you . . .
- Because you too were an alpha male. While circumstances never allowed you to realize this part of your nature -- and this was surely a part of your emotional undoing -- I felt this kinship with you. You more than any other dog in this house understood my need to (metaphorically, anyway) bark my presence in this world, mark my territory and protect my pack.
- Because you were the only member of our family with a worse Body Mass Index than me. Now I am unquestionably "the fat one" in the house.
- Because you were a part of my life through so many changes. Like Max, I often looked at you and remembered you in Iowa, or Minnesota, or LA, or in between. You provided me with continuity in reflection and a sense of time & seasons passing.
- Because, on the rare occasions that AK was gone and I was up most of the night hearing every little noise, your snoring was one of the few noises that calmed & reassured me.
- Because you -- again more than any other family member -- could relate to my unreasonable and intense grouchiness during long transitions from sleep to waking.
- Because you were smart. Smarter than the average dog and smarter than Emily. This made training you much more challenging, but I always gave you props for it. Even when you both escaped, Emily was easily duped into capture, and you eluded our every trick -- I found it charming.
- Because you were tough. Never has a smaller dog been more harassed by a bigger dog. Never has a miniature poodle had to sustain such a constant barrage of bullying. But you never ever let her feel like she had you. You stood your ground, snarled & nipped when appropriate, and sometimes even hunched that bitch right back.
Thor Dog of Thunder was a sarcastic joke name, given that he was the most adorable ball of black fluff when we got him. But he did live the life of a Greek god: large, loud and full of drama. Lord over all he surveyed, he lived rich and died young. There's never been a dog quite like our Thor, and we are so lucky to have known him. I imagine Thor Heaven looks a lot like the Black Farm in Indiana, where he can run with no fences, drink from a stream and there's no shortage of, um, organic things for him to sniff, lick and roll around in.
Oh yeah, and in Thor Heaven, EVERY dog is smaller than Thor. :)
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