Kevin's Khronicles

HOME	IN THE BEGINNING...	THE GREAT WALL	AMERICAN SUMMITS	TOUR de CUBA
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I can vividly recall that day 14 years ago, in the Summer of 1991, when I first moved to the Sequoia National Park area from my current place in Ojai, California, as though it were just last week. I was living with a woman then (I’ve come to learn as I’ve aged and gained in wisdom that being married to one another is much more productive and far more happier than simply living together, although I have yet to test this theory out), and she had this idea of starting a dog breeding business.

I was totally against this since it wasn’t that long ago that our Shitzhu, Lang Lim Chi (Chinese for Pretty Little Boy), died on the operating table of complications from cancer, and it took me months to overcome the pain and emotion of the loss of my shadow.

We argued over the idea. I held my ground. She went ahead with the plan. I had no choice.

Soon thereafter we became the owners of a 2-year-old mother and her 4-month-old daughter set of Lhasa Apsos, complete with papers. The mother had a ridiculous, cartoonish name at the time, while the daughter had yet to be given a moniker. They seemed happy and feisty bounding about the house, as the deal was being made to purchase them. I stayed off to a corner, continuing to mumble my discontent. Once the transaction was completed, I headed out of the house, walking to the car, while the new members of our household happily followed me, jumping in the back seat ready for their ride.

It was decided that since they were considered by origin Tibetan royal dogs, they should have Tibetan or Chinese names. The Tibetan language I wasn’t familiar with, but from all my years of Chinese study, I at least had a smattering of their tongue.

I observed the girls for days; watching their mannerisms. Mama, as I called the older dog would act very regal and proud when sitting at attention, barking and snapping at her daughter to mind her manners. The daughter, was the opposite, having boundless energy, and liked to play tough, seeming to enjoy trying to take you down no matter what your size was. The mother was the color of a cream white, whereas her daughter was white with patches of black on the ears.

It was finally decided, once their personalities were confirmed that their new Chinese names were to be for the mother, Hanzhu (Cold Bamboo), and Jia Chou Tu (Beautiful, Tomboy, Wild Beast), or simply Jia Tu (Beautiful Wild Beast) for short.

The dog breeding business never materialized and within 18 months, I had lost everything when the woman I was with no longer wanted me, but rather desired someone else who moved in as I was moving out. That was a terribly, lonely time, and I suppose in some way, I deserved what was coming to me; I needed the spanking because I had broken the Law...I went ahead and was living life my way instead of God’s way (and it’s a maxim...you can’t fight God and win).

It was perhaps days as I was settling into my new place just up the road that I was confronted with the situation of either taking the dogs or seeing them taken to the shelter where they would either be separated from one another or be put to sleep, and neither choice was appropriate to me.

Thus, I took in the girls, who were only too happy to be with me, and in time I found them to be a comfort and a blessing, as they insisted on sleeping with me; fighting for position in the bed. I’d place them on the floor beside the bed as they were used to at the old house, but sometime during the night, they would climb on a nearby chair and then hop over to the bed, where I would find them the next morning; Hanzhu down by my feet, while Jia Tu preferred to be curled up in my arms.

We forged a new life together. They didn’t care if they had to sleep in a car, so long as they were with me. Yes, in those lonely, beginning times of struggle, we lived tight, but there was joy in the adventure, and happiness in each other’s company.

Soon thereafter, I publically announced my next tour being American Summits, and began to prepare for it. The thought of having to leave them for nearly six months did not go over well with me, and because of it, I wanted the best possible care for them. That care became a resort for pets (mainly cats and dogs) that pampered to their needs (such as the best, most nutritious food and snacks throughout the day; their own unique sleeping quarters, complete with pristine bedding along with a cooling and heating system per pet room; and quality people time where the girls would be walked and hugged and held and have play time with someone that took my place, were among some of the luxuries). It cost a small fortune, as I lived like a dog during the tour, and upon retrieving them months later for the return home, they took one look at me, barked most inappropriately, turned around and headed back to their room.

I don’t know when they went from being my dogs, to my girls, to my daughters, but the transition seemed effortless and natural, and then I never saw them any other way but being a part of me.

Upon my retirement from the world of adventure cycling in 1998, the girls were used to having me around the house almost all the time, although they became very self sufficient (so long as there was adequate food and water) at having the run of the house, as well as the fenced in back yard as their play area. I could leave them for a few days if I had a personal appearance to make, but still made sure to have a neighbor drop in and take a look at them during the day.

Mama (as I called Hanzhu) began to slow down a bit as she aged, becoming a bit more grouchy with both Jia Tu and I if we were making too much noise in the house. And if we didn’t listen to her, she would hop up on the couch and really demand to be heard, until we either stopped or dragged her into our play circle where she would become very flustered and try to escape to a more relaxed and quiet part of the house.

One morning, a month after her 10^th birthday in May of 1999, I found Hanzhu asleep under the porch. So quiet and peaceful was she, that hardly anything seemed wrong with her. When she wouldn’t answer me, nor wake up, I went in after her; her stiff body formed in a fetal position.

Jia Tu came out to see what was wrong, looking down at us from the porch, and when I called her over to come and say good-bye to her mother, she promptly retreated to the sanctuary of the house in a snobbish sort of way. I actually had to go in and get her; bringing her closer to her mother. As I said a little prayer and a good-bye, Jia would try to wriggle free until I finally let her go running back into the house while I picked out a burial spot nearby.

I was sad at Hanzhu’s passing (I think Jia was relieved since now she had me all to herself), but there were no tears to shed, and I did feel somewhat guilt, because even though I loved Hanzhu in all her cold, Victorian regalness, I adored Jia Tu more so because she resembled closely to my rough and tumble ways being the tomboy that she was.

The intervening years were good ones between Jia and I, as we grew closer toward one another. She was my shadow; my ever present companion. She took away the loneliness I felt on those occasions when I had the need to wrap my arms around a living creature, hugging and holding until she had had enough and would squirm to get away.

I could be gone 10 minutes and upon my return to the house, Jia would bounce around the room, blocking my path as she tried to jump into my arms; wanting to be held long enough to smother me with her kisses; her tail wagging ferociously... I would joke to friends that I could never find a woman that could greet me at the door like Jia would.

During the year 2002, she began to go blind and that hurt me to no end. Jia never complained, but began to readjust to her new way of life, until I went into action, getting down on my knees, praying to the God of all creation to heal this little girl of mine. By Christmas of that year, Jia woke me up with a greeting of two clear eyes (for a full report of the miracle, please read the February 2003 Khronicles piece titled, Love and Miracles), as I held her in my arms and thanked the Lord for this gift.

Animals are marvelous creatures. They seem to be able to take so much that life has to throw at them, that us humans could only wish we had that kind of endurance. They never seem to get sick as we do, but when they do, it could be fatal. Else they get it into their head that they’re too old, have lived too long, and must now depart from this life. As a volunteer caretaker to the elderly (in what free time I could afford), I have seen this many times. They begin to shut down and it becomes a most trying time for all those present, as you hope and pray that they’ll somehow, someway, snap out of their funk before it ends up killing them.

Such was the way during the month of June with Jia Tu as she was well past the age of 14. Sure, at times, she would move slow and sleep more, but she still had that zest for life that kept her ears flapping in the breeze when she spied me from across the lawn and dashed toward her goal.

Soon after she became a teenager, she became finicky about her food. She absolutely refused the dry stuff in favor of the more expensive, gourmet, senior diet of canned chicken, turkey and beef with liverwurst or nuggets of ham mixed in as an added touch. I was now her personal chef, and she took on the attitude that after all these years of loving me, she deserved it. And for a little puppy, she had a great appetite; devouring all that was placed before her on a plate (she also refused eating out of her dog dish, but still accepted the water bowl).

And then by the beginning of June, she began to lose interest in her food to the point that I would have to try and feed her by hand, or serve her with either a fork or spoon (all those years of watching me eat my food, I suppose she figured why should she eat any differently than I). And when that didn’t work as the days and weeks wore on, I would finally break down with people food of smoked salmon, tuna, liverwurst, sausages, pasta, and even chicken soup.

Jia gladly took in all of these delicacies, and at least she was drinking plenty of water on a daily basis, but the new change in lifestyle was beginning to take it’s toll as her weight began to drop from her normal size of 15 pounds to the skeleton range.

Her last really good meal was on Sunday, June 19^th...father’s day. After that it was just bits and pieces of the above mentioned foods until she only wanted water.

And I’d keep a constant vigil on her; hardly sleeping at night; just short naps. I’d clean her up when she soiled herself and made her as comfortable as possible, as I would with the elderly. Surprisingly, she was not in any pain. There was never a moan or a whine coming from her. She could still walk as she’d move from sleeping place to sleeping place, sometimes seeking me out to lay by my side.

And I would hold her and love her and care for her, and cry tears into her fur, as she gave me a gentle kiss or two upon the cheek; resting her head against my chest.

In the early morning hours of Monday, June 27th, about 3:30am, I cried out to God for mercy; warm tears streaming down my face. Lord, Jesus, this can’t go on. You need to take her Home. I’ll miss her, Lord, but I love her too much to see her waste away like this, and You know I can’t put her down (for the reason why, please read the April 2005 Khronicles piece title, Quality Control), so please Lord, I’m asking this of You. Take her Home before the next sun sets.

Jia rested beside me, in the crook of my arm. Her breathing was slow and steady and comfortable, and I could feel her heart beat a slow steady rhythm through her well defined rib cage.

As the early morning hours approached and the birds began to sing outside our door, Jia awoke with a kiss to my chin, ready to get out of bed for a drink of water. Finding a comfortable spot near the office couch, she went back to sleep, while I gathered the day’s mail to take to the post office just a couple of doors down the road.

In all, I was perhaps gone about 20 minutes, but in that time, as I returned, found Jia just outside the office door, laying in the sun for some warmth. Apparently she was missing my presence, and wanted to seek me out, but was too tired and too weak to go the distance toward the house.

As I approached her, I could see she was breathing heavy, and in need of a drink of cool water. I gathered her in my arms and brought her to her water bowl, where she took a couple of sips. Too weak to hold herself up, I held her in my arms as she looked at me; her eyes glazing over. Her heart beat rapidly, and her breathing was labored, and then...she let out her last breath; her heart beat a final time against the palm of my hand, and she was gone.

And that’s when I snapped into action.

Looking back now these last few days, I suppose I should have let it go from there. But like my Jia; my little girl, I, too, am a fighter, and I could not give up that easily? For years, I haven’t thought of her as a dog, so why should I now?

I immediately placed her on the ground and began to administer the basic CPR that I was trained for during my years as a world traveled adventurer, giving her mouth-to-mouth, shaking her and yelling at her to wake up! She responded briefly with another breath or two, and her heart kicked in, as she looked up at me with those big brown eyes of hers, as if to say everything is okay now, daddy; don’t worry about me, I’ll be fine...

And I heard a still small voice in my mind say to me, Kevin, let her go. It is done. Can you fight God and win? Let her rest...

And oh, how I cried tears I haven’t shed in years, as I picked her lifeless body up in my arms and held her close to my breast; the floodgates raining down upon her soft fur. Unlike most people, Jia allowed me to love her unconditionally, as she gave unconditionally of her love in return. It was 12:30pm, exactly nine hours after my fervent prayer to God to have mercy upon us.

Just as her mother, Hanzhu, died six years before according to her spirit, in peace and tranquility, Jia Chou Tu passed away according to her make up, as a fighter to the very end.

I don’t know when I began to dig the grave. Not long after her death. I remember just a few days before walking over the little more than five acres of the property, coming to three spots that I liked, until choosing her final resting place. I took the shovel and did the job in a zombie-like fashion.

It would be under the mulberry tree, near a corner of the yard, surrounded by the oleanders. Within a few inches, the shovel hit a hard object, and after a few shovel fulls of dirt later, I pulled out a melon-sized rock and placed it off to the side as I continued with the task at hand. Strange how that was the only rock, not to mention there were no roots to cut through. Just good solid earth.

I then went off and dug up Jia’s mother, Hanzhu, where she was buried on another piece of land far off. I knew I always wanted them to rest together when I wrapped Hanzhu’s body in a sheet, and buried her in a spot I could retrieve easily.

Knowing what to expect after six years, I braced for the worst, yet amazingly, the sheet was not deteriorated; not one hold. No smell, just a tiny lump within.

Back at the new grave site, I placed both my girls side-by-side one another; Jia Tu now wrapped in a clean white cloth. I don’t know how long I held her in my arms, desperately wanting to remember the feeling I will never feel in this life again...the feeling of truly holding someone you love unconditionally in your arms for as long as you want without letting go; without complaint.

And again the tears shed, and I don’t know where the power came to finally place my little girl beside her mother and begin the process of refilling the tomb. It was a zombie-like reflex. It just had to be done before the end of the day was out (Jewish tradition of my heritage).

As I placed some concrete slabs atop the freshly churned mound of earth, as a marker and a remembrance, I wanted to add a bit more. Scanning the area, I noticed, off to the side, the sole rock that I had previously dug up that now my girls took the place of. Picking it up in my hands and wiping off some of the dirt, I had to blink and stare at it a moment. For there before me was a gift from God; a rock fashioned by His hand in the unmistakable shape of a heart.

How is this possible? To walk the land of five acres; choosing one area over another, to finally being led to the exact spot of my girls final resting place, only to dig and come across a single rock that was in the shape of a heart, and more still...it had a slight crack in the middle, as if the Lord were acknowledging not only my broken heart, but His as well.

It was a fitting memorial; a true testimony to the Lord of all Creation who holds the keys of Life and Death. If He can care for the sparrow and the Lilly, does He not care for me and my girls?

And who knows still?...that one day we (and the rest of my children) shall be united once again in the Eternal Place where the cursed stench of Death can never reach us.

Oh, how I shall miss my Jia; how my arms will ache to hold her once more, but that gift from God that now lays upon their tomb will remind me that He continues to love and care for all of us, not only in this life, but in the one to come...

Kevin