2008 Woodie Awards
Sometimes a Snowflake falls in August
Melissa S. Hayden
Issue date: 8/25/08 Section: Opinions
To quote Richard Adams' classic Watership Down, "My heart has joined the Thousand, for my friend stopped running today."
The words from the sometimes chilling tale of rabbits that haunted my thoughts as a youth--I would watch the film again and again, every time still tearing up over the plight of the poor bunnies--have struck a chord in my heart today.
A beloved member of my family, though furry and waggle-tailed, passed away this day, Aug. 24.
Snowflake came into our lives before I turned 22, owned by a then-boyfriend's family. She would unhook herself from the chain they kept her on and chase cows in the fields near her old home. The family decided to give her to a new home lest she become the victim of a farmer's bullet or take a lethal kick to the brow from a heifer.
My parents were not really looking to get a new dog. The last one, a golden retriever named Sparky, had taken quite the toll on my mother when the dog succumbed to death's call.
But when they met Snowflake, she somehow melted their hearts and was welcomed into our home and our lives.
In a fenced enclosure, she would run and play her merry days away. When night would settle over our wooded back yard, she would snuggle in a tight coil in her house, but she always kept keenly alert to the things going bump in the dark.
I felt safe returning home late if I would go out. She would greet me with a few happy barks and sometimes with a wet, slobbery doggy kiss.
Before I left for the day, she would run and jump with delight. Knowing I was a sucker for her charms, she would be rewarded with a pat on the head. I would give her some praise, much-deserved attention and the occasional cookie.
She was a fuzzy, white angel, a white German Shepard to be exact, who would dance in a little circle, spinning to and fro at the clap of your hands.
There was no pain on her face this morning when she was found; her paws were crossed peacefully, like she had fallen asleep and it was so pleasant and full of nice dreams that she just forgot to wake up. Truly this little angel had fallen into our lives, now out of them.
The words from the sometimes chilling tale of rabbits that haunted my thoughts as a youth--I would watch the film again and again, every time still tearing up over the plight of the poor bunnies--have struck a chord in my heart today.
A beloved member of my family, though furry and waggle-tailed, passed away this day, Aug. 24.
Snowflake came into our lives before I turned 22, owned by a then-boyfriend's family. She would unhook herself from the chain they kept her on and chase cows in the fields near her old home. The family decided to give her to a new home lest she become the victim of a farmer's bullet or take a lethal kick to the brow from a heifer.
My parents were not really looking to get a new dog. The last one, a golden retriever named Sparky, had taken quite the toll on my mother when the dog succumbed to death's call.
But when they met Snowflake, she somehow melted their hearts and was welcomed into our home and our lives.
In a fenced enclosure, she would run and play her merry days away. When night would settle over our wooded back yard, she would snuggle in a tight coil in her house, but she always kept keenly alert to the things going bump in the dark.
I felt safe returning home late if I would go out. She would greet me with a few happy barks and sometimes with a wet, slobbery doggy kiss.
Before I left for the day, she would run and jump with delight. Knowing I was a sucker for her charms, she would be rewarded with a pat on the head. I would give her some praise, much-deserved attention and the occasional cookie.
She was a fuzzy, white angel, a white German Shepard to be exact, who would dance in a little circle, spinning to and fro at the clap of your hands.
There was no pain on her face this morning when she was found; her paws were crossed peacefully, like she had fallen asleep and it was so pleasant and full of nice dreams that she just forgot to wake up. Truly this little angel had fallen into our lives, now out of them.
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Angie
posted 9/03/08 @ 4:57 PM CST
I completely know how you feel! When I lost my dog, Peaches, about six years ago I mourned her loss for nearly a month and sometimes still find myself tearing up over her. (Continued…)
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