The Spell of Ai

Death in its glorious nature

July 1, 2024, 7:18pm

July 1
Sitting with Bruno, my 13yr old bully dog who is in his final stages of living, watching and listening to his breathing, waiting for that moment to arrive when he slips away, leaving me to grieve and reminisce.

That process is accelerating faster than my ability to capture the moment here, fighting back the tears and trying to continue my own breathing.

His breathing is labored, he’s experiencing waves of pain and when his heart begins to race and breathing rate goes beyond 90per-minute he will be very near when convulsion starts and the throes of death will take over, dying will begin and my life will change. Living, for me, will be difficult for a time.

His grave is open, a service to myself since waiting is a torture too great to bear. When death is near, my life becomes tenuous, my will to remain becomes a dangerous proposition, a dance with life and death.

My life with dogs is unlike most peoples. We are never separated. Evolution has granted the canine a bonding mechanism so fierce their pack instinct overrides everything else, even food. The absolute worst thing for a dog is to be alone. They would sooner starve. Even walking beyond the gate for daily chores or going into a store for groceries raises a five-alarm fire in the mind of my dogs. So anytime we for one reason or another must be apart their anxiety is matched only by my own. You would never want to get between me and my dogs.

In his prime, Bruno was all of 80lbs or more of pure muscle and tremendous power, agility, courage and loyalty, a body like a prize fighter with a heart of gold. What he wants more than anything in life is to be with me, close, every moment, even now. With failing organs, foodless for days and days and dehydrated, in excruciating pain - he refuses to leave me. There is no telling if there will be another day - but death is imminent and near.

He is fully conscious; his eyes are open and bright with the same beautiful green as the first time we met. Bruno always knows the right thing, his cues are impeccable, an angel incarnate - so we will not euthanize. We will let Bruno decide. Natures child and not truly my own and so not my decision to make. He just wants to be near me - my debt to him should be paid in full.

He is receding quickly right now, in body only. His character remains wholly intact. No complaints, no regrets, silently waiting and bearing the great pains of living, as he has always done - excepting of course - the separation. Inside the storms are raging, all inside of us we are wailing and howling and cursing the stars, moon and sun. We know we must part, and even our temporal worlds feel the rath of getting between us.

July 4
The pronoun “I” is rarely used in my writing because narcissism pervades all media forms in our current times. Deleting it is my most powerful ally and forces me to think carefully, I want the reader to be emersed in the story - not in me.

I have born witness to death many times, a reality that comes with age and a colorful life. It never gets easier. It always brings a teaching. The intervening days between July 1st and July 4th were among the hardest days of my life. Being childless and never married, Bruno was a true soul mate, we were sympatico in every way and although of different species our languages were the same. Fighting through the grief and depression seems unbearable at the moment, so I’m taking my time.

Crossing the species divide means just that; living together when action supersedes the differences in language, we are at a heightened state of existence. We learn the true meaning of cooperation - a gift beyond measure. Bruno was just another dog among many, and I am just another man. The bonds created between us represent the miracle, the gold that is the payment for the pain of living. All of the self-help, therapies and practices are worthless in comparison to a single loving relationship.

Unconditional is a word whose meaning is beyond definition and is part of the spell that inhabits these pages, as real as anything can be. It is Bruno’s story, and mine, and that story would fill volumes; but is locked away in our communal vault forever and beyond the reach of the mortal mind. That is the lesson life teaches when death occurs in all of her glorious nature, mother to us all.

Bruno died July 3, 2024, on the first day of the Dog Days of Summer and rising of Sirius the Dog Star. My Mother died on the same day 5 years earlier. We shared the same uncanny relationship with dogs.

Milo arrived in time to console us, and we were a pack for a brief precious time.

So, the beat goes on…