Mar. 13, 2006, Pokey's Timing :

Normally, for me, planting a tree is an act of optimism and experimentation. But this is different: it's not about the ph of the soil, the chance of weather or the hope of fruit. It's about the placement of my heart in an act of reverance for my beloved dog. My "Perfect Pokey" will help nourish a tree with her body, one more act of benevolence in a life of many. Her fur is soft as sable and her eyes are kind, but the strength to wag her tail has gone. We've been to the vet, so I know it's her liver.

Pokey has always had good timing, so I hesitate to question her now. My son described a backpacking trip they took together and how in full flight Pokey caught a squirrel which was also in full flight. The picture of her sleek, athletic beauty was something to see. She's a black lab with a rottweilor mother, but also something tall and tucked under like a great dane.

Later, when she caught a squrirrel and I ask her to release it, she did so, reluctantly. We didn't need to eat critters, but if we did, I would want Pokey on my side. Among her other good qualities, she has never been a glutton, but now she can't hold up even her thin frame.

I've thought about an olive tree. The beauty, endurance and symbolism of peace would be fitting for such a calm and loving dog. Once, we were sheltered at a campfire near the top of a barren and rocky mountain. Pokey in athletic delight jumped up and kissed a tall stranger on the cheek, without otherwise touching him. I was appalled and read her the riot act about her manners. She listened gently and when I let her go, she completed the maneuver again to let me know I was wrong, the man deserved a kiss.

Why can't people be more like dogs a stranger mused recently, as Pokey leaned into her upon first meeting. At our best, I think we are. We recognise kindness, soak up love, threaten when afraid and bite only when we have to. At worst, we are also like some dogs: we bite first and ask questions later.

An oak tree would be a fitting tree for a dog of her strength and courage. Pokey's mere presence and position was often enough to divert trouble. She kept bully dogs from mad attacks, rowdy dogs from running into people and puppies in place. Once, on another dark night, she kept an unsavory fellow away from me and my car until we could get in and get out of there. She was strong of character and bold. I never saw her misjudge a situation.

Her breed, the rottweilors, were originally for herding cattle independently (and also babysitting the children) and pulling carts. We ask a lot of our dogs, and in these days, I'm asking Pokey to stay on long enough for me to forgive myself.

Somewhere in the middle of our relationship, I asked Pokey to do a job she wasn't interested in, but she tried. She did beautiful work, inconsistently, which is not the way in Search and Rescue. So, when I got the other dog, who was hard-wired for the task, Pokey was often left behind. And one of those times, when we were off parading, because it was Fourth of July, Pokey got scared and was lost for three days. She was found seven miles away at a reservoir, going in the right direction to the wrong place.

I promised her I would never take her for granted again, and it was one of the greatest gifts of my life to have Pokey back. We've had some wonderful times and she's enriched the lives of those she's touched, I can say, without exception. That's something to hold a candle to, my love.

So, when I think of Pokey nourishing a tree, I want a tree of grace and goodness. Pokey will be buried in the place where she spent her last days in the sun, in the poppy field, at the toe of the Inyo Mountains in sight of Mt. Whitney, at the dogleg on Railroad Ave.

I know what to do. I'll plant a peach tree from my Dad's last block. It's a fitting alliance: Dad wasn't very tolerant of a certain class of dog, but he was very loyal to Pokey. He was working on creating an "early peach," so that would make this planting an experiment. And the peach is ancient Chinese symbol of immortality, which would make the tree an act of optimism: because you never know if Dad and Pokey might meet.

Pokey (below) teaches Mia the fine art of relaxation.

The Dog Leg Diaries
Tales of Restoration
by Karen Riggs

Archive:
Sept. 2 Mia at Work
Mar 15 Mookie's Door
Feb. 15 Kisses in the Wind
Feb. 8 Mookie at the Window
Feb. 5, Raking Weather



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