A Pure, Sweet, Innocent Dog: Rigel

Imbolc and the 3/4 Moon

Tuesday gratefuls: Rigel.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Rigel.

 

Rigel

An angel has returned to her true home. Rigel died quietly and peacefully over night. She lay on the kitchen floor, in a usual sprawled position, beautiful since she got groomed last week. My best guess is that she had a stroke a week ago yesterday and began to lose functioning of her lungs as a result. But, I don’t know. She was never in distress, at least not visibly.

At 13 she long ago passed the age of expected death. And she lasted for me, past the hospitalization with endocarditis in 2021, a year and a half past that. I needed her after Kate’s death last April and she kept going, kept showing up at night to warm me with her long body.

She lasted until my 75th birthday, I think to the day. Yes, a sad memory for my future birthdays, but also a memory that will bring me joy. Rigel lived her own life. She lost her sister 6 years ago. Vega had a big personality and Rigel lived somewhat in her shadow, but after Vega died, the always there Rigel had a chance to blossom.

With Rigel, Andover

If you were here, and you were human or canine, she loved you. Without cost to you, without condition from her. I now believe we’ve had the whole Dogs are angels in disguise thing backwards. It’s angels who are Dogs in disguise. A loving and compassionate God could well have created the wolf knowing that fierce compassion would be needed later as humans and wolves evolved. In the frisson between humans and wolves God allowed angels to come into our earthly lives. And might I say, Hallelujah.

When we brought Rigel and Vega home from the breeder, Rigel got her head stuck in a gate. She wanted to go explore. A quality she had in abundance. I had to take the gate apart to get her head out. Those of you who know my manual skills know what that meant for me.

She continued escaping, taking with her Vega and sometimes a Whippet or two, until I found the downed tree limb. She used it to lever her 110 pound body up and out of our yard. She escaped so often that I strung 2,500 feet of electric fencing. She hit it once and stopped forever.

Rigel left & her sister Vega

She had a strong prey drive. Kate told the story of her coming into our Andover kitchen, coughing a couple of times, and expelling the head of a rabbit so recently dead that its eyes were clear and moist. She and Vega together let their inner hound out often, catching and killing, chasing and barking.

Six years a Midwesterner and seven years a Mountain Dog, Rigel adapted well. She dug and dug and dug, in spite of the rocky soil. Rabbits live under our shed and our deck. Don’t know how many she got-a huntress does not reveal her secrets-but she kept at it until days before her death.

Rigel and a bull Elk in our back a day before my first radiation treatment.

Rigel and Vega were Irish Wolfhound/Coyote Hound mixes. We went this route because we wanted a longer life span. So many of our Wolfhounds died at 6 or under. Most. Vega died of bloat, a sort of accidental death though she did have an amputation for osteosarcoma. She was 7. Rigel kept on and on, in spite of illnesses. Yet, she persisted.

Jon wrote, “A big loss for us all.” Yes. She loved each of us wholly. Thumping tail. Leaning in. Kisses. Lying in the bed. Gazing at us as we gazed at her. She is irreplaceable, like all our dogs. Like all our humans. All different. All special.

Rigel’s family

Celt. Sorsha. Scott. Morgana. Bucky. Iris. Tully. Tira. Emma. Bridget. Hilo. Kona. Gertie. Kepler. Tor. Orion. Vega. Rigel. 18 in all. One left. Only two of us who made the move to Colorado are still alive. And both males.