Backyard Memories

A year ago today Jersey spent her last afternoon lying on her blanket in the backyard.  I remember the warmth of the sun, the sound of the birds and the way she seemed to drink it in.

Alexa and I decided that since it was such a beautiful day, Jersey would probably enjoy being outside. We placed her blanket in the rear of the yard and got a place ready for her.  We wanted to spend time with her, enjoy her. We wanted to let lay on the grass for a little while on this unseasonably warm and sunny March day.

I carried her down the stairs and gently put her on the ground.

I can still see her ears moving about while she listened to the breeze through the trees, picking up the sound of some critters rustling among the fallen leaves.  I lay down next to her. I can still feel her fur and smell her when I buried my face in her neck.  The orange, red, and gold of her coat was highlighted by the sun and stood out against the brown dirt and light green, dormant grass. I can still see her looking at me with peace and contentment in her eyes. She was alert, she was present, she was with us.

My heart knew we wouldn't have much time left with her.  My senses were attunded to capturing these last impressions so I could always hold them in my heart and remember.

Jersey, Alexa, Tellie and I spent a large portion of the afternoon not doing anything other than being together. Tellie knew what was going on and was watching out for us.  She sat among us alternately climbing into my lap, climbing into Alexa's lap and stretching out next to Jersey.  She knew what to do and provided the physical touch each of us needed in our own way to stay grounded in the moment.

The mildness of the day brought the robins out.  Their round little bodies were still puffed up with the downy feather coats which keep them warm for the winter, their chests vibrantly red.  They hopped around the yard looking for bugs and worms, scrounging for something to eat before the weather turned cold again.

Jersey watched them closely as they gathered food.

In that moment we were alone, we were together, we were a family.

She was getting restless.  I picked her up and Alexa gathered Jersey's blanket. We brought her to the brick patio and I set her down next to the Adirondack chair I would sit in at night with a blanket wrapped around me, alone with my thoughts and Jersey at my side.

Alexa and Tellie went back into the house and Jersey and I were alone.  I sat in the chair and stroked her head and began talking to her.  I began saying my goodbye.

24 hours later, she was gone.

As I think back over that serene afternoon, I consider myself foruntate to have spent that afternoon with her, just the two of us. I am thankful I can measure the passage of time with that beatiful memory of me and Jersey and the robins.