When we buried Jasper we forgot to send him with his prized possession: his rotting deer leg. No matter how far we’d throw it, he’d find it within a few days. He’d gnaw and chew and carry it with him. He’d say “just five more minutes!” when we’d pack up for the day, “I’m not done chewing on my rotting deer leg.”
What I’m loving about Honey is how she looks up to big brother Jasper. I brought her to his spot between the pines. She dug and dug in the fresh earth. “I’m excited to meet Brother!” she said. She quickly became distracted, taking an impulsive chomp of the sunflower resting on his grave. Ran off with it, she did.
Today, she found Jasper’s prized rotting deer leg. While I harvested beans from the garden, Honey harvested the leg from where I can only assume was the depths of hell. I found her with it laying atop Jasper–either to taunt or to bond (likely both, as is the way of siblings). Thankful to receive the coveted heirloom, she chewed and gnawed with a hungry smile. After a while, I called her to the car. She protested fiercely, “Please! Five more minutes.” I heard Jasper’s words from her little body. But she has a little lisp. She’s missing her front tooth.
She sprinted off with the leg–a habit long abandoned by Jasper (he’d preferred a resigned groan). She squirmed a little when I carried her from her treasured rotting deer leg, and from her brother.
Maybe in my maturity, I’ll one day find acceptance (or at least some resignation like Jasper) when people or experience or pets are taken from me before I’m ready to be done. I’m feeling a bit like Honey for now. Squirming and protesting for five more minutes with my Jasper. I kind of get them (the five minutes) though, when I’m with Honey. And when I find his fur on my clothes. And when I sit in his favorite chair. Or lay flowers on his grave.
Because just like that rotting deer leg our favorite things always find their way back to us.