How does one write this?

         
                                                                  How does one write this? Me being Guilty????
                                                                              by MWD.

                           Please Note: this writing took over a wseek to place here. So sorry, dearest reader, for the jerkiness of this entry.

                           Its events will haunt me til my dying day and rightfully so.

                           Early morn yesterday I had to bury my dog of many years. This dog was big. 130 lbs.

                           I got home from work about 1:15 AM June 18th.

                           I went thru the normal rituals of letting each of my dogs out. While doing so, I refilled food dishes and replenished water for them.

                            Nuq seemed okay. He trotted out the door, tail wagging,  and headed for my small backyard 150 gallon pond like he has always done in hot weather.

                            He drew his last breathe in this 18 inch deep space, yet its currently holding less that 12 inches of water.

                             This is where he died just twenty four hours ago as i began this writing. My mind is swerving down avenues a plenty. Areas vast as my working guilt could have played a hand at his death via working hours or my simple displaying a better life at the hours of between 230 in the m0rning to 430 AM when I'd have them out as others were asleep, heading toward their day as I'd end mine.

                                Mind, mine, reeling for some chance at rationality at Nanuq's death, finding the sounds of sirens and apparitions causing  me to take hold of my other dog, FRODO, and finding a  better life for her.



                             Could have been a heart attack, loneliness, neglect on my part given the hours I work.

                             I had tried to find him a better place to live. I tried several times to gain him a home on farms.

                            Nuq was a 130lb  Great Pyrenees.

                             This dog would toss his arms over my shoulders and look down at me. He was big. He loved me.

                           And yes, he bit me a few times as well as others. I guess it was my stubbornness that didn't have him killed years ago as he did so.

                        Granted, in all honesty, Frodo, my grand and glorious, most intelligent dog ever in my fifty one years livingm loves to Sweep behind others close to me, and nip their asses. My friend Michelle K described Frodo as AssBiter. and that's accurate. Frodo, does take a nibble....

                                 To memories of Nuq....

                               I remember his days while growing at 3/4 a pound a day caused awkward  physical behaviour as we'd feed his bowl 1 and a half pounds a day of food to fuel him.

                                He stumbled about with  each step he took as a child under my care.
                             cheering his triumph as he climbed to couch level.

                                     And as a puppy, though larger in stature eclipsing, Frodo, the ALPHA in my realm, she being the most intuitive and  intlligent
                                           Unlike Frodo, Nuq didn't eat rocks, pigeon

                              Washing him was like washing a sub compact car. He so loved water splashing over him as well on his undercarriage. And when he splashed dried, water was felt over ten yards in distance. I so remember him looking at me, loving the splashing water against his frame.

                           Every encounter with Nuq was like being greeted by that of an adult. He'd tossed himself at me like Dino of the Flintstones and hug me like a human. He'd place fore paws on my shoulders and look down at me.

                              He did this til the day he died, and walked toward my tiny pond..


                               Imagine panic filling me finding a good dog dead.

                              I tugged at his neck after calling his name repeatedly. No response.  I placed a hand on his torso. Nothing up nor down, nor sideways. Pulling him out by his collar, my mind will never forget the thud sound of his head hitting the sand....
                        And his Death was from my failure to find him a better place to live....