Over the Rainbow Bridge Memories

Even though Victor died a long time ago at the age of sixteen, I still miss my best Border Collie every day, and especially now.

He loved to be included in family celebrations, sit by the fire, and tear up wrapping paper.

I think this was his last Christmas before he took the walk over the Rainbow Bridge. If he wanted to rest his old bones on the sofa, he deserved every comfort.

Nothing made him happier than a bucket to toss around the yard. I wonder how many buckets he went through in sixteen years because this one looks pretty well beat up. I believe this pic was taken early in the morning before he died.

He was so sweet to his little sister, Bandit. She’s over the Rainbow Bridge too, and I’m sure she’s still the princess, taking his bed so he’d have to sleep on the floor.

My sweet, sweet babies.

A very old pic of Bandit as a kitten and old man Victor

The Unseen

It’s been a long while since the gardens at Casa de Enchanted Seashells were honored by the presence of a four-legged child. When we had a completely empty nest, there was supposed to be a lot of travel and other fun but that didn’t really happen, at least not in the way I had happily anticipated.

This was my beloved Bandit…Bandit in a box

…and my beautiful Border Collie boy –Victor at age sixteen, enjoying his senior years at what was to be his last Christmas before crossing over the Rainbow Bridge, sitting in the place of honor because he deserved it.

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Lately, something odd and mysterious has been going on here.  I’ve discovered tennis balls and other toys that simply seem to randomly appear out of nowhere, some even in the middle of the lawn, as if a game of fetch was still in progress.

See?

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There’s a monogamous pair of coyotes that visit me on a regular basis and I have a wildlife camera set up to record their activities, so I know the balls don’t come from them, although that’d be super cool if they were bringing me gifts to thank me for my vocal support regarding coexistence with wildlife, instead of vilifying and murdering them.

But…

My yard is completely fenced in–not that coyotes care about that–but to emphasize the fact that a normal domestic dog roaming the neighborhood couldn’t possibly find a way in, and certainly not with a ball in his or her mouth.

I like to think it’s the spirit of my Victor sending me a gigantic message that he’s still chasing tennis balls and he’s up there with Sabrina and Stella Rondo and Beowulf and Tovah and Bandit and Misty and Tawny and Blackie, all my beautiful children who were so very loved and cherished during their lifetimes and beyond.

Here’s my most special part wolf, Beowulf, and a MUCH younger me.

I was part of a covert rescue operation and bottlefed him every two hours. I was his mom and he was my perfect boy. We were inseparable. Soul mates.

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Yup, I really do miss them all so very much.

But where do the balls really come from?