Requiem: Melba 1984-2002
© Yeshe Chodon
After three years of struggle, my 17-year-old dog died last night. That is why this column is late but still in just under the wire.
She was a Bassador, product of a papered Basset hound mother and a more or less black Labrador father who jumped the fence. I bought her for $5, the most I have ever paid for any of my dogs. The picture is the logo for my website business. She was black; the picture makes her look chocolate, but she was not. Her long glossy silky ears endowed her with a hint of the vamp, ludicrous in the face of her phlegmatic personality and her basset body.
Though the legs were short, they were longer than those of a purebred basset and she climbed hills with enviable ease, with what a friend called "Four paw drive."
She had the best life I could give her. She had almost daily ambles, and plenty of camping trips. She barked at coyotes though she was incapable of attacking anybody and was set upon by nasty dogs (though the coytoes never harmed her)pretty badly in her time.
She was an unashamed coward who would squat and cry at the approach of a bully. Her idea of a joke was to grab socks or underwear and bury them in hastily dug holes then run about making you chase her. Her face was perpetually set in a hopeful little half-smile. She would sit quietly in the kitchen, never whining or jumping as the other dogs do, waiting for scraps and snacks.
I have before in this column mentioned the old cliche "Has the dog Buddha nature?" What dogs have taught me is to aspire in so many areas of life to dog nature. Patience, good humor, perseverance, acceptance and comfort, appreciation of the little things; these are the fundamental lessons.
I have not consulted the works of Sogyal Rinpoche nor other theologians. The Tibetans say leave the body for 3 days but I buried her on the second day, not wanting to see her go through any gruesome changes; I could lay her in the grave and cover her with a quilt and see one of those lovely ears laying at rest, the sun evoking rainbows on every jet black hair. I have so far had no specific visits from her spirit, but rather sense her still around as though she in some way remains on her bedding, in the yard, just hanging around.
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