Pride divested itself into a white and grey coat draped over the now slender figure of a noble warrior. This was a legend who was about to pass over to rule in another place. A legend who had kept the peace in a land where strange visitors always moved in.
In the beginning, he was discarded into captivity being the 'one too many' within his own family unit. Caged, but not forlorn, he was the only one of his type in the holding pen. I can only imagine the thoughts that ran through his young mind as the sounds of those that surrounded him constantly reminded him that he was not of their kind.
A typical dealing had occurred as I sought to provide him with freedom. A dealing fraught with disgust. But I had a need to provide comfort to one of my own and as such, I walked away intentionally allowing the Dealer to believe that he had once again presided over yet another fool; that his oozing masculinity and slight of tongue had facilitated the outrageous profit he had made. What he wasn't aware of is the fact that even back then I chose my battles. What I saw in my purchase was quite beyond value. As I reflect now it was, perhaps, the perfect risk.
And so I opened the doors and let the youngling out. Greeted he was by a curiously well-intentioned mother figure who willingly presented the largest nipples he had ever seen. As it had been only days since he had fought and lost, the battle for food, this must have been euphoria. And rather than shrinking back for fear of the unknown, he instantly bonded with his new provider even though although large, no liquid came out of her pendulous mammaries.
In the early years, there was only a slight interruption of his masculinity. It came early and had no effect on his subsequent demeanor as a protector. The domain over which he presided was harsh and urban. It didn't care about how you got there; it didn't care about who you were. It cared about whether you were challenging in your demeanor, whether you were willing to lie down, or whether you pose a threat to the perfectly aligned order of prominence. And posed a threat my warrior did .. even in those formative years.
Battle scars and mice appeared regularly through the door. Nights when I would lay awake listening to the howls of challenges until he was ready to go forth. And no uninvited guests made their way up over the walls of his domain. And he arrested the ferocity of that intent to douse his prowess by sheer agility and stance. It was like he never understood that compromise was an option, regardless of the size or nature of the oppressor. In his mind, it appeared as if he intuitively had within him no fear.
The introduction of another 'invited' intruder of his own kind was to be quickly dealt with. "If you are to be within this house, you will yield". And yield the dear intruder did and ultimately became his closest companion, but not one that could ever live up to him. Kind he was, the young lord. Kind to this less meaningful being. Friends they were, until the end.
These were the early years when he laid with me and his mother-like figure and my own. All together and safe.
As time went on our homestead was up routed and we moved to a different place. The once small members of our pack were growing and the mother began to expand. Alien beings were introduced and in each case, he had to bring them to an understanding of respect. Regardless of ferocity and size he stood his ground and corrected inappropriate behavior. This was bought on by a belief that although smaller there was a line, a specific line, that he would never tolerate being crossed. Challenged he was, consistently, and without fear, he stood that ground never yielding. Keeping the peace.
And then a young arch-lord from the neighboring Court began to intrude upon our domain. A dark lord. A strong misguided presence who overtly appeared. All of us that surrounded our hero were protective and did not like the intrusion of this presence. When the opportunity presented itself, as a unit, we pushed forward the message "You are not welcome". But deep into the night, he would continue to come forward to claim our territory. Many battles ensued. My warrior's black companion although much larger in stature did nothing. Why? Because he did not have a heart and so it was left in his hands. And fight he did.
Time after time ripped and bloodied he appeared with his oppressor looking on unscathed. Face battered, I soothed his wounds. He would recoup and then go back. And then .. about a month ago ...
As I ran my hand over his back I felt backbone. How had I missed the change? This was my warrior. Understandably he was getting older. I remember sitting in my sanctum, rain pounding down outside when I heard his call. The daunting sound of a low menacing growl. On it went. On and on. And then it occurred to me that it had gone on for too long. So reluctantly I went out into the storm. There he was standing tall but drenched by the elements. His oppressor, puffed but dry underneath the safety of cover. I knew then that he would not yield, but my sense was that he knew that if he did he would lose this battle. Not because he lacked courage, but because his body could not withhold against the challenging youth. I scooped him up and bought him in. Shivering, but tense, he allowed me to squeeze the water from him. "No fuss, let me go" was what he said.
This was just over a week ago .. and then I noticed he had not eaten. And then he ceased drinking. And then it was time to deliver him to the experts. An alien environment where they put forth the attitude of righteous knowledge. A kind opinion of maintaining life, regardless. No, no. They could not understand his path or how he arrived here. They could not understand that what they suggested defied the very way he had lived. There would be no tubes or forced continuance of life for my benefit. He deserved to die as he had lived, with dignity.
(Have strength Merliz, as you preside over the passing of a friend.)
And so I prepared the path that he deserved. I conjured up the sight of the bridge. I called upon those who has passed before to come forward as I needed them to be there. And then they brought him to me .. the white and grey coat draped over the now slender figure of my noble warrior. A legend who had kept the peace in my world and one who I would deliver across the bridge. And I held him in a way that only a true friend can. I acknowledged his strength, asked for his forgiveness, and then as I always do, I asked him to be there for me when I make the crossing.
Until the next time, I am mourning the loss of a friend. Merliz
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