Ramblings of an Inquisitive Mind

Solomon

Well, it is time for us to say goodbye to Solomon. He has been a wonderful dog and brought much joy and happiness to all of us. It is always so hard to make these decisions, knowing how much sorrow there will be once we say goodbye. But it is the best thing for Solomon. We will not allow him to suffer just so we can put off our suffering a little longer.

Early in my relationship with Sylvia, we decided to get another dog. We were living in the country and had just three Boston terriers at the time. It just felt like getting a big dog was the smart thing to do. We started looking at large breed dogs and Sylvia wanted something white and fluffy, so we decided on a Great Pyrenees. We located some puppies and off to Talmo, Georgia we went. We just went to look but fell in love with this gorgeous little fluff ball. He was in the barn with his brothers, sister, mom, dad and goats. We left him there but returned in a couple of days to pick him up.

I bought him for Sylvia and she held him all the way home. Now we just needed a name. It had to be a proper name, but we could not come up with anything. I looked at him and for some reason the name Solomon came to mind. It was and is the perfect name for him. He has very soulful dark brown eyes. When I look at him and he looks at me, I swear he can see deep into my soul. He is a comfort.

Now, I do not want you to get the wrong idea; Solomon was not a saint! I have cursed him and chased him and worried about him more than I care to remember. He was a jumper, and I could not keep him in a fence. He was always so proud of himself once he got over the fence. He would trot off and glance back at me – tongue hanging out one side of his mouth and that sparkle in his eyes – as if to say, “Screw you,” and he would be off on another adventure. I could swear I saw him wink a couple of times as he pranced off with that beautiful white tail held high, like a flag waving a sign of victory. I live in the country far off the main road, so he spent most of his time in the woods or trotting around to say hello to various neighbors. Everyone knew Solomon, and they always commented about what a nice dog he was.

He and his buddy, Patsy Cline, went on their last adventure together a couple of months ago. He has known Patsy since his puppyhood. I cannot say that she was the best of influences on him. She was pretty good at finding ways to escape and he was always right behind her. This last adventure was one for the ages. Patsy – or as I now call her, Houdini – chewed her way out of a soft crate, squeezed her overweight Boston terrier body through the cat door, and the adventure was on.

I came home from work expecting to find Patsy inside – but no. And no Solomon outside. I called and waited the usual time, expecting them to return after their foray, until concern turned to panic. I drove around asking people if anyone had seen them. Yes – a small black dog in the lead with a huge lumbering white dog following her. At one house, the woman told me she took a picture of them because it reminded her of the show Lost.

Solomon finally returned after a couple of days, but there was still no sign of Patsy. Hope was all but gone when we got a call about a small black dog. It was her – skinny, dirty and snake-bit – but it was her. Lorene picked her up and brought her to the house. The two escapees had their reunion and all seemed right with the world.

But we knew that in reality, all was not right with the world. Solomon had osteosarcoma and was getting worse. The cancer started in one leg and then it was in the other front leg. I stopped trying to fence him and let him spend his time in the shade in front of the pond. It felt good to drive in and see him sitting there – made the whole place seem safe.

I have often thought that our animals come into our lives for a reason. I have learned lessons from all of my animals. I listen to my animals and they speak to me. Solomon is no different from the others in this respect and he has taught me some wonderful lessons. What did Solomon teach me? I think more than anything, he taught me tolerance. He was always so tolerant of the little black-and-white monsters who shared his world. On more than one occasion, when Solomon was barking, I saw Patsy Cline jump up and grab him by the side of the face; no one was allowed to bark around here if Patsy did not approve. Sometimes he served as a couch or loveseat for the Bostons. I think he was their comfort also. Whatever came his way, he was always up for the task. He babysat more dogs and goats than I can even remember, and always with patience and tolerance. Solomon taught me that just because you could do harm to others does not mean you should. You should walk peacefully among the others who share your space and your life.

Sylvia and I went through many ups and downs during Solomon’s time here. When we eventually broke up, Sylvia was gracious enough to let Solomon stay here and take care of all of us. BUT – he was always Sylvia’s baby. He loved her like no other. It always made me smile to see how happy he was to see her. They shared a bond that was special because they both have such goodness and love. I think it was Solomon who picked Sylvia and I am so glad he did.

So today, we sat with him while he slipped into the next part of his soul’s journey. I know that I feel privileged to be present when such a magnificent creature closes his eyes for the final time. It was hard – always is. So Solomon – my man – thank you so much for letting me be a part of your journey. I feel so fortunate to have had you in my life for this long and even more fortunate to have been loved by you. You will come back here – we will spread your ashes along the pond and you will forever be the sentry of the pond and my heart.

Sleep well, my friend.