Mountain Folk Get Dogs

Written By: Charles - Apr• 06•23

Spring and Kepler’s Moon

Thursday gratefuls: Tara. Passover. Chag sameach. Ruth’s bat mitzvah. Gabe and Benihana’s. Kep. A loved Dog. Kate, a loved wife. Shadow Mountain. A loved Mountain. Shadow Mountain home. A loved home. This place, the Rocky Mountains. Loved. This life. A loved life. My ancient, loved friends: Tom, Bill, Paul, Mark. Loved family. My son and his wife. Mary. Diane. Mark. Mountain friends. CBE friends. Finally. Understanding love and its permeation of all.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Love, in all forms, for all things


Dogs and dying. I’ve often said that our culture doesn’t recognize the power and significance of a dog’s death. I’m wrong about that. At least in part.

At Jackie’s Aspen Roots. Kate’s hair stylist, now mine. Jackie is a good example of love in all its forms. Her place of work is a place of love. She loved Kate and now loves me.

Almost done when Jackie’s door bangs open. Maggie busted into the room. All waggy tail, tongue hanging out. Looking for people to greet. A big smile on her doggy face. A very happy, I’m so happy, aren’t you, dog.

My heart burst open with joy. Oh.

Maggie went up to Jackie, me, Ronda, the woman with color foils in her hair. Greeting. So glad to see you. And you. And you. And you.

This is my friend Connor, Jackie said. A young man, early thirties. Mountain handsome. A stone set in silver dangling from a silver chain. A trimmed beard. Slim and pleasant. His lady friend, tall and slender, beautiful. A red sash of hair on the right of an otherwise deep brunette head. Maggie returned to them. Happy to see them again after her circuit.

Jackie’s friends often show up. Bring her lunch. Drop by for a hug. To say hey. The ambience of Aspen Roots. I love going there. A lot.

I paid. Scheduled another visit 5 weeks out. As I began to leave, Jackie said, he had to put his dog down last week. Connor turned to me. So sorry, man. His genuineness touched my heart. His lady friend, the same. Maggie, of course, smiled.

Mountain folks get Dogs. How they are with us. What they mean.

Kep’s loss felt seen for what it was. A deep wound, the loss of a friend. Not an oh that’s too bad moment and the conversation shifts to the latest Trump debacle. No, the room there at Aspen Root’s knew. Saw. Felt. Love the Mountains.

When Jackie came over to give me a hug before I left, Maggie came over, stood on her hind legs, front paws out. Let me in. Let me in!

Yeah. She does that when we hug, too. Said the lady friend with the red bolt of hair.

As I left, I heard Jackie explaining how Rigel and Kepler had helped me during the two years after Kate’s death.

Love the Mountains. Yes.

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