Saying goodbye to Squirt

Squirt slipped away so peacefully a the end that I couldn't tell she was gone.

That disturbed me some at first, but I've decided that she used up all of her spurt, her energy, and isn't that the way to go?

Eighteen years is a long time, and I still find myself going to her bed to pet her; her presence has been such an ingrained part of our lives.

 She taught us some valuable lessons in those years. Like all dogs, Squirt had an innate sense of fun, and it was mixed with, in her case, a quiet kind of stubborn determination that wasn't evident unless you got to know her will.

She underscored the power of exercise. We're convinced that her longevity is due to the fact that we took her regularly on long walks, plenty of runs and lots of trips to the dog park. We pushed her her hip sockets began to erode, and that kept her as mobile as long as possible.

For me, that means I need to keep running until I can't run anymore, then walk until I need to stroll, then shuffle behind a walker. Don't quit.

Her time at the end got me thinking plenty about the existence of God and the joy and sadness of the nature's system of life. I'm not sure I can accept a God of the Bible, particularly as he is in the New Testament, the one who cruelly tests people, sets some rather harsh, weird rules and is prone to fits of murderous anger.

I mean, when he created us, an All-Knowing, All-Powerful God would have known we would be prone to screw up and make allowances for that.

But something is underneath it all, maybe not a grand puppeteer, but something. Squirt fought for life in her in own Zen way, and if it were purely an existence predicated on survival of the fittest, I think she would have thrown in the towel long ago. But there was something more there, a love of life, an acknowledgement that it was important. If I only knew why.