The Rhythm of Life

Look at these two…my Big Black Dog died this week. Photo by Zac Callaghan

It has been a sad week, and one that has been a huge reminder of the rhythm of life. All of us are here for such a tiny amount of time. On Monday my Big Black Dog, Lou Lou, died peacefully, surrounded by his family. In the image above, you also see Odysseus, or Odie for short, who has only known life with Lou Lou.

It has been a sad week, but at the same time, one of enormous support. Zac Callaghan, my friend and colleague arrived with a beautiful plant (we are writing, along with Leah Mercer, a play for the Door 3 Initiative at Queensland Theatre (Co.), called Wanderings, about a mother/son relationship while in transition); and BBA (Bill my husband), Odie and Hector (Odie’s twin) surrounded our beautiful Lou. It was a peaceful and gentle send-off. Of course, there were copious tears, but also warm hugs and then hot cups of tea.

The next day one of my oldest friends, Bev Jensen (who did the art/design for many of The Nest Ensemble’s productions) arrived with another beautiful plant, with a black dog being held by a bee in the centre of the pot. We ate cake, drank tea, and chatted for hours.

There were many online connections too, with deep understandings passed through the screen, sharing stories of when other dogs moved from this life to whatever happens next. They were of comfort, in fact, enormous comfort.

So life continues, the rhythm of life being a powerful thing, as the song goes. It gives us pause no doubt, we are confronted by our own mortality. We will all pass over at some unknown point in time. We will all cross the bar.

I’ll finish this short post with a short excerpt from Pablo Neruda’s poem ‘A Dog Has Died’

No, my dog used to gaze at me,

paying me the attention I need…

but, with those eyes so much purer than mine,

he'd keep on gazing at me

with a look that reserved for me alone

all his sweet and shaggy life,

always near me, never troubling me,

and asking nothing.