Napoleon and Lafayette

Death is never easy.It is never easy to accept, tolerate, understand. It does not matter if it comes in the form of the loss of a close human relative, lover or friend, or in the form of a beloved pet. Lafayette, our beloved Basset hound, we rescued from the streets 7 years ago, and who had been feeling ill and old for some time now, died on March 28th at 8:35 p.m. This came just within 48 hours of her having insisted on spending a last night outside,under the stars, to say goodbye to her life and her garden. I loved her passionately, took care of her diligently, comforting her as best as possible with supplements and good , nutricious food , love and attention. But when death calls, there is no mercy or remedy. Neither is there ever an appropriate way to deal with the raw pain and ache of losing a loved being. It seems mostly irrelevant, as my intelligent son pointed out, what your philosophical or religious or non-religious beliefs are, when all is said and done, we are left with the deep sorrow of having lost someone we love, they are gone, and are not coming back. Whatever made them special, their personality, looks, heart, likes and dislikes, passions, talents, all disappear as the cold , icy grip of death takes hold. We are left with memories, as our brains are marvelously equipped with cameras that through our eyes, over time, recorded the story that became dear to us about the person, or in this case, animal we loved. In this case also, Lafayette's death is the end of the story of Napoleon and Lafayette. It started 7 years ago, when my son and I met a black Labrador and cream colored Basset hound at his school bus stop. They seemed to live on the street, something the neighbor hood kids confirmed, as the owners were too busy to care for them. They seemed gentle, patient, kind. Pretty soon, we were bringing them food, as they were always hungry, and soon after that, they started following us home,and soon after that, I took them in. It was close to Thanksgiving 2005, and it was very cold.They walked in, I got them blankets, food and water, and they stayed. Our house is small, just about 1000 square feet, and it was cramped, with two large dogs, who were allowed indoors 24/7, as I love animals and they had already suffered enough deprivation, having lived on the street for years. They were so sweet and grateful, I decided to rename them, let them know this was the beginning of a new life for them. To me , they looked just like the twosome in the Disney movie, The Aristocats, in which there were two country dogs, also interestingly enough, a black Labrador, whose name was Napoleon, and a cream colored Basset hound, Lafayette. So, I renamed the two recently rescued dogs, Napoleon and Lafayette. Just like in the movie, Napoleon was the brains and the protector, Lafayette, the emotional and vulnerable one. Napoleon was one of the kindest, wisest dogs I ever knew. She was with us for two years, and then came down with bone cancer, which she tolerated with great dignity. When her time was near, and we took her in, she died peacefully in my arms. To this day, whenever I look at her picture I keep close at hand ,I cry and feel the deep ache of loss still. Lafayette was lost at first after Napoleon died, because Napoleon had been the one who kept her safe on the streets. Gradually, she relaxed, and she and I became very close. I became her second Napoleon. Lafayette was the sweetest, most innocent dog imaginable, she had always the heart and vulnerability of a puppy, stuck in a big, lumbering body, that became more cumbersome with time and arthritis. She loved being cozy, and seemed happiest, once going for walks became too painful, on her comfy cedar-chip filled beds, which she had in both the living room and our bedroom. She loved her plush toys, her milk bones, which she defended from our cat Sneakers until the day she died, and she loved us, because we were her loving, safe family. She went everywhere with us, to the beach, Cannon Beach, each summer, or any other vacation, in the back seat with me, while my taller son rode up front with my husband. She was one of us, and as she got older and more frail, we always took turns being with her, so she was never alone when we had to go somewhere. She knew she mattered. I think that is the best definition of love: you matter to me, so I will be there for you, rain or shine. No matter how sophisticated we have become technologically, death still outsmarts us, out-strips us in its ruthless inevitability, leaving our hearts naked, confused, numb. But for the grace of memories. These death cannot take away. The ballad of Napoleon and Lafayette will stay in my heart, as long as I have breath, and the love we shared will stay there too, warm, real, strong. Their story is alive and well, in full color and detail, in my beating heart. The sorrow of the loss will hurt for some time, and in some ways , always, but the love Napoleon and Lafayette left will live much longer.