I think the wind carried her memory to me, because, from the moment I got back to the island of Kauai, five years after our meeting, there she was, every placed I turned. One small, red dog. I would look to the back seat of this year’s rental car and would see her red ears flapping outside the window. When the morning’s bacon cooked, I looked out the patio doors to that dash of an island dog sprinting across the field for her breakfast. Then there was the park bench to the left of the children’s merry-go-round by the Hanalei Supersave. We shared our first ice cream there. Ours was a relationship initially forged on food scraps.
There are more places she appeared. The dried riverbed we walked to reach the Haena beach, the Norfolk
I have had many dogs, equally loved and treasured, but there was something about Ally that abides. Perhaps it was her tragic and unnecessary death that increases her hold. She should be six years old now and at home. But I think it was more her nature and courage. I remember a skittish island dog, covered in ticks and fleas, fearful of every human touch. With the kindness and love she deserved bestowed, she surmounted that and trusted one human who wanted nothing but her happiness.
And so, yesterday, Richard and I rose at 6:30. We put on the long jeans we knew we would need to jump the fence to the pasture one last time. We crossed the stream and made our way hillside. And there she was, as in past outings, twenty feet behind, seeing where we just might go and following.
I had an idea about where I would leave her. It was to be under the same tree high on the hillside where, one week after our meeting, she finally let me reach over and scratch her ears. The photo I was to bury her with captured that moment. But after 45 minutes in high grass and going up the wrong ridge line, I realized Ally was never much on convention. We didn’t need our old place, because today we could share a new place that would be ours forever.
And so when the hill rose and the red soil made its return, we found our place under the shade of two eucalyptus trees. The view was just what we needed, our field and the ocean below, and, if one looked far enough, the nearest land to the North is Alaska.
I opened my Sherpani bag and made ready the resting place for her ashes. She would not be alone. I took out a business card, scratched out my title, and wrote “Ally’s best friend.” I returned the Certificate of Health needed to transport her from Kauai to Alaska
Dear Ali’I (spelled this way in homage to the Hawaiian royalty she was)
I’ve brought part of you to the place of our meeting. But don’t ever think you are without me. I see you everywhere, feel you everywhere. My heart has never known so much love. May you triumph in your generous spirit. One small red dog who had the courage to trust. No one ever loved you more. Our spirits are joined little one. I love you, I love you , I love you, forever and a day,
Joan
I tore the last page out of the Charlotte
Joan never forgot Ali’I. Although she loved all her dogs dearly, none of the new dogs ever quite took her place in her heart. She was in a class by herself. It is not often someone comes along who is a true friend and a good porcupine finder. Ali’I was both.
I spread Ally’s ashes on the ground along with a few of the porcupine quills we had removed from her beautiful nose on more than one occasion. Ally could find them on any Fairbanks
Before I covered her again, I looked to her photo, the one we took on this Kauai hillside so long ago, kissed her nose, and saw what I had been missing.
There were so many days after her untimely death when I wondered if taking her with me was the right thing to do. But the love and the peace on her face in that photo made me realize it was. However brief her time, she knew a kindness that would carry her forward always.
As do I.
Good-bye my friend.
Thank you.
