A Prayer for Mu

A Prayer for Mu

On Kelsy’s birthday in 2016, July 14th, we went on a search in Monroe.  Kelsy worked so hard.  So did I, actually, because the scent trail of the small terrier, Jack, kept going under brambles that were easy for a dog to get under.  I crawled a good percentage of the search trail, following Kelsy.  The scent trail ended at a dead end, with no sign of which way Jack went after that.  Perhaps he backtracked, or maybe he was picked up by someone, I don’t know.  Jack was never found.  Kelsy still did a great job, though, and I’m sure I told her so.  After the search, I took her to swim in the river and play fetch.  She had a great day.  I had a great day, too, in spite of crawling through brambles and not finding the dog.  I was with my girl, working.  She was happy and healthy, and that was all that mattered to me.  Kelsy was strong and full of life. That was our last search together.  She would be diagnosed with cancer a week later, and she didn’t last to the end of the summer.  I never thought I would lose her so young, only 11 years old.

Last week, Mu & I worked in the steady rain.  He did great work and found evidence that likely showed what happened to the lost orange cat.  This evidence, a small amount of remains, could not have been found any other way than by Mu.  Even after we found this evidence, we kept searching, either hoping to find the lost cat and learn that the evidence was not what we thought, or hoping to find more evidence to confirm what we thought to be the case.  As we were searching, I just enjoyed working with him.  We have been working together for ten years.  He took six months off because of some anxiety issues, and at that time I thought he had earned a retirement if he no longer wanted to work.  We got him through that anxiety, and these days he is anxious to go to work.  He does a great job, even if he has slowed down a step.  Mu is strong, happy, and healthy.  We were working in a mossy forest where, with the steady rain, I had to use my flashlight to see even though the sun hadn’t set.  I was right where I wanted to be, working with my best friend, my partner.  Even if our work showed that someone’s best friend wasn’t coming home, at least they would know why.  The owner was devastated, and she said that the lost cat had a wonderful personality and was part of the family.  She was heartbroken at the evidence Mu had found, but she appreciated our work.  She was thankful for Mu.

As Mu and I got into the car, where Tino had been waiting for us, I cranked up the heater so Mu could dry out and warm up.  I wondered if that might be my last search with my Mu.  He can retire any time he wants.  He has earned it, finding more than 350 cats in his ten year career.  He has saved many lives, and he has brought closure to other families.  If Mu ever indicated he had had enough of slogging through ravines, I would support his decision.  He could enjoy retirement by the fireplace, and going out on adventures of pure play and no work.  I was also thinking, as we drove home, that Mu has a surgery scheduled on November 11th.  He will have a suspicious lump removed.  Hopefully it will turn out to be benign, or if it is potentially dangerous, they may be able to get it all and stop any spread.  Or it might be that the lump is just one outwardly visible symptom of a more systemic problem.  Having already had four previous dogs with cancer, three of them taken by it, I know that on November 12th I could learn that my time with Mu could be coming to an end.  I certainly hope not.  I hope he remains healthy and wants to work many more years, or he chooses to retire and live many years of comfort.  I know there is a coyote waiting for each of us, like the brave and clever orange cat that was such a valued member of his family, who went out one afternoon to hunt birds, unaware of the danger stalking him.  Although I certainly take measures to protect my dogs from actual coyotes, I know there are metaphorical coyotes, such as cancer, that can strike at any time without warning.  Also, I am approaching the age my father was when he suffered a stroke that left him severely disabled and unable to work for the rest of his life.  And so, I always try to enjoy each outing with Mu, even the ones where we find the worst news and we are chilled to the bone.  I will try to always remember how I had gotten so cold in the steady rain that my hands weren’t working, and I had to hold my hands in front of the vent for a few minutes so I could drive.  I will remember Mu curled up on the seat, snoring, getting warmer by the mile, while Tino was panting in the back because I had the heat cranked.  I will remember how Mu hesitated before making the jumps over the fallen trees, but he did jump, with my hand behind him in case he fell back, but he didn’t fall.  He searched cluttered garages and weedy fields and ferny woods, and he found the evidence that no one else in the world could have found.  Mu solved the case again.  If we work another couple of years, or if this was our last search, I will remember, I will live in this day, in that moment with my Mu.

As Mu’s surgery approaches, I will say a prayer for him.  I will not pray in hopes of altering the outcome.  I will not pray for divine intervention.  If divine intervention were possible, and I thought I could will it one way or another, I would pray to stop the wars around the world.  I would pray that a million dogs would not go missing every year.  I would pray that a million dogs wouldn’t die in shelters every year when they don’t have to, when their lives could so easily be saved.  I would not pray for divine intervention to alter the outcome of Mu’s surgery, whatever it may be.

When I pray, I pray to Kelsy, my secular saint.  Kelsy is always with me, as if she is right beside me.  I talk to her all the time.  My prayer to Kelsy is that I will focus my mind and control the things in my control.  I pray that I give Mu the best possible life, if it is long or if it might end soon.  I pray that I will be present with him.  I will listen to him bark at me nonstop to get his pills every morning, in pill pockets made of some kind of cocaine for canines, and I won’t be annoyed at the unnecessary volume and repetition, since I’m always preparing his pills just as fast as I possibly can and all of that barking isn’t going to get him his treats any sooner.  Instead I will enjoy the deafening and unnecessary barking because I know that one day there will be silence, an unbearable silence, and i will be happy to have Mu annoy me for as long as he can.  When I pray to Kelsy, about our Mu, I will ask Kelsy to help me have the right focus, to do everything I can to help Mu be the best dog he can be, saving the lives of as many cats as he can.  And when Mu doesn’t want to save any more cats, we will enjoy just playing, goofing around, relaxing, as many years as we can.  When I pray to Kelsy, I pray to her that I will be present and aware in my moments with Mu so that I can hold on to them for as long as I have a functioning mind, the way I hang on to my last search with Kelsy, when we played fetch and she swam in the river.

If Mu lives another five years, or if we have had our last search, I have my ten thousand pictures of him, I have our case files and notes, I have his record of success and service, I have the goodness of him, his spirit, his quality, in my mind.  I am a memory palace.  Kelsy’s Forest is my memory palace, my mnemonic device where I store memories for easy retrieval.  But my brain is where Kelsy and Porter and Tess and Viktor live, where I keep them alive every day, thinking about them, saying little prayers to Kelsy, my secular saint.  Whether Mu and Fozzie and Sky and Tino all live to be 20 years old, or if I lose them sooner, I will keep them all in my memory palace, my brain, and I will work to keep my brain going as many years as I can so that they can all live extended lives there.  And so when I pray to Saint Kelsy about our Mu, I just pray that he will be Mu, and that I will love him as much as I can, as long as I can, enjoying our work and our play the best I can.  Whenever Mu leaves me, it will be too soon.  I will just love him now and I will love him after he is gone, even though I hope that is not for many years.  I do not pray to Saint Kelsy for divine intervention, but just that I see and appreciate the divinity I have been given in Mu.