In many ways, I am Rosemary’s shadow.  (I was even born on her birthday.)  I’ve watched and followed.  I’ve admired and observed.  I’ve seen how she speaks and laughs.  I’ve witnessed how she comforts those around her, and how she turns inwards.  I lived with Rosemary during one of Trusty’s final months.  I observed the care, the heart-ache, the tenderness, the tears.  I saw how this heart-string tied Rosemary to Trust and Trust to Rosemary.  How this animal, this trusted sister, could evoke such human responses in Rosemary (and in me).  How Trusty gently eating from the palms of our hands brought waves of relief mixed with waves of pain – as we knew, as human animals do – that her days with us, on this earth, in this life were becoming fewer and fewer.  I watched as Rosemary tenderly greeted Trusty each morning.  There were many nights when Trusty would scratch at my bedroom door – wanting to be held, wanting to be cared for, wanting to be loved.  There is this notion that a human’s love for an animal (a “pet”) should somehow be less-than our love for other humans.  That our ties to animals are somehow less special, less important, less devastating, less joyful…just less.  But I have been witness, not only with Rosemary and Trusty, but with others – that our ties to any life, no matter the form it may take, can be profound, moving, saddening, joyful, deep and meaningful.  We are all dust to dust – no matter human or dog – we will all return to the same form.  We can all be spread over the grounds where we walked, thrown into the oceans where we swam, held in the hands of people who loved us, cared for us, who are left behind to remember us. 

Dear Rosemary, I still feel Trusty’s presence.  She’s still bounding down the hallway; she’s still eating from the palms of our hands.  She is still barking at a squirrel; she is still sleeping in her chair.  She is still scratching at doors, and she is still tied by a heart-string.  

 Love, Jenn