Arrival Story: I acquired Seva as a pup, through a Los Angeles breeder. Being that I am from Minnesota, it took two weeks before the weather was mild enough for her to make the flight. She didn't know if she should be horrified or delighted by her introduction to snow. She chose the latter. She's been a delightful addition to my life ever since.
Bio: I am a saluki. I have never been a show girl. My tail went "gay" when I was but a pup, which led me to my mom. She had no interest in showing dogs. I lead a quiet life in this, my twighlight. Oh, don't get me wrong. I spent a good decade digging holes large enough to park cars in, chewing holes in walls, picking fights with dogs (attack them first, befriend them later- that's my motto...) - the general "bad dog" things. But my mommy always kept loving me. So now, I am content to be a good girl although I will never stop stealing food off the kitchen counters. I love my mom and dad and tolerate a few other people. I am forced to live with 2 cats. I have tried to make it clear to these vile creatures that I have no interest in deepening our relationships. We are housemates, nothing more. I have a few dog friends, but none are salukis, so rarely do they fully understand my complex (read "bullying") nature. Their loss... Who am I ? What is my bio? I am Seva the saluki and I am fabulous.
I am just amazed at the continued support I receive from everyone in this community. Amazed. I've received gifts. I've received donations in Seva's name. I've received beautiful cards. And most importantly, I've received such unbelievably kind sentiments during a difficult time.
We're doing as well as we can. It gets a little easier every day. Some days you think you're through the worst of it, then something as small as seeing a Monarch butterfly reduces you to tears. It's just the process. We're looking forward to the day when the memory of Seva feels less like a gaping wound, and more like the gift it should be.
Seva's having too much fun with all of her new and old friends up there to think about updating her diary. You're all in her hearts, though. I'm certain of it.
Thank you again, very much. I'm going to try to answer each one of your sweet sentiments individually. It may take me a decade, but I'll do it! Seva promised to help me, but right now she's too busy kicking up her Prada heels with Honey.
My husband and I would like to thank each and every one of you for the incredibly kind sentiments in the form of rosettes, paw-mails, poems, digital art, stars, personal diary entries, forums, friend requests and strolls. You have literally carried me through this so far. Every tiny tribute to Seva fills me with joy. It's overwhelming. It's so hard to wallow in my own pity when I am inundated with all of this celebratory love for Seva. It forces me to focus completely on her. And if I can accomplish that, I can't possibly be sad.
I still feel Seva with me. I truely do. When other loved ones in my life have gone, I have simply felt their absence; a hollow emptiness. With Seva, I feel a magnificent, deeper presence. Although physically separated, I feel connected.
As soon as Seva was gone, and her body was transported to the funeral parlor (It's true! We have a pet funeral home here!), my husband and I had an overwhelming urge to take Finlay for a hike along the Minnesota river valley. In fact, this would be the third consectutive hike we'd be taking throughout the difficult weekend. During the first hike, among much other wildlife, we witnessed a large owl who, from the middle of the forest, flew right out in the open, perched with his head turned nearly behind him, and simply stared at us screaching. Amazing, we thought. You just don't see that everyday. The next day, during our second hike, a hummingbird came out of nowhere, again in the middle of deep woods, and literally hovered in front of my face at eye level. I thought he was going to land on me. He simply stared at my face for three full seconds, then flew away. The third day, and the day of Seva's death, we saw a tiny baby snapping turtle, no bigger than a silver dollar; a beautiful family of swans complete with tiny babies; and then a fawn ran right out beside our path. A little orange fawn with white polka dots. (I'm pretty sure Finlay wanted to eat her, but we won't hold that against him...)
Tiny babies everywhere. In the Fall season. To me and my husband these sightings were gifts- pure and simple. Messages, from Mother Nature herself, or perhaps straight from Seva.
And now, to feel Seva's presence I need only find my way to the forest for a direct connection; her silky hair the soft breeze, her warm breath the sunshine, the sparkling crisp water her ebullient joy.
Now if I could only find a substitute for the smell of her tiny temple where I kissed her 1000 times a day...
Seva's not gone. Far from it. I feel her spirit stronger today than I have in years. With that, and the immense spirit of friendship offered to us from across the country, and the world, how could I possibly be sad?
Thank you again. From the bottom of our hearts. You have no idea what it means to us.
This morning we released Seva from the dreary confinement of her ailing body and allowed her to return to the brilliant universe whence she came. Our hearts are broken, but we sense the joy in her resurrected freedom and are trying very hard to stay focused on her. Not ourselves.
Wherever you are this day, if you should find the sun shines a little brighter, or the thunder rumbles a little deeper; if the wind blows a little warmer or the stars blaze a little hotter.... think of Seva. She's free. She's alive. She's finding her way home.
She's never run faster. She's never run harder. And her heart has never been so full of joy. She's earned this.
God bless you Seva. For giving me love, life, and the meaning of spirit, nobility and dignity. For allowing me to gaze through your eyes, into your ancient soul. For carrying me through, though it must have been such a burden, for so many years. I pale in comparison, but am left stronger for having shared your life with you. I cry for myself. Not for you, dear Seva.
Run, Baby Girl, run. Pass the horizon. Don't look back.