REMEMBER ME

Nantou JF … one of our Sharpies of Champion stock

Many years ago we had in the seminary a magnificent animal, a dog.

She was not a purebred and some considered her ugly. She was small and brown with a fox like nose. I found her abandoned by her own mother along with another in the woods and immediately brought them back to warmth and what I thought of as safety.

Her brother was taken by a neighbor and called Cookie, so since this was a Spanish neighborhood, without great inventiveness we called her Galleta.

Galleta lived sixteen years and although friendly and loved being caressed refused to set foot inside any shelter. We built a fine kennel which was disdained and we never for a moment tried to contain her with fences or chains. She had her red collar, all the injections yearly and walked on lead when it was essential. Apart from that she was as free as the wind.

She slept outside in sleet, rain and snow and hunted for extra food, racing after foxes without luck and squirrels with which she fared better.

She was a completely natural dog that had never been tamed and yet she lived symbiotically with us, giving much more than we gave.

Anyhow the point is that she gave birth to a litter … outside in a sheltered spot and they all almost immediately died.

She nudged then and then after at first not sure what was happening just walked off.  She continued as always and never came back to that particular spot looking or searching.  It was as though she remembered nothing of the incident.

Of course the memory was there somewhere, but she never elicited it.

She was burried in a beautiful spot beneath the trees and those who knew her will remember her, but when we in turn pass away she will be forgotten.

Anyhow, today I read an article in the newspaper about Farrah Fawcett and the article went on to say that only her family remembers her.

I am not concerned with her history or the reasons, but the article seemed to say that she “should” be remembered after her death and I wondered why.

Why does anyone wish to be remembered after their death.  Is not simply being alive enough.

I remember being fascinated as a child with tombstones and what they said and though I read the names and texts I am sure that no one remembered anyone after a few generations.

Yet, we seek to want more than that. When we die we want to have our mark left on society. Though no one will ever know the true creature inside, how we  hoped and dreamed, we want just to record our name somehow… being famous is more than the money, it is being remembered (yet never known).

Perhaps it is because we have never bothered to actually live and instead have walked around with the chains of education, society, peers, parents, education and the state and need some compensation.  After all what is the point of living? We believe mistakenly that it is not to die.

We have a number which will no doubt be recorded in some book when we die…and someone will have to pay for it

What is your number…. will it be remembered.

Does it really matter?

Galleta died and remains in our brief memory but she cared not a damn and she lived a life as near perfect as I can imagine and I only wish that I could have lived with that freedom, although indeed I have come close.

We have now five other dgs here… they are thoroughbreds, two of champion stock, abandoned , of course.. . Do they know that they were great champions with a great lineage… No. Their names will appear in dog history for years to come until dogs are no longer appreciated… Do they care… No they live life here and now to the full.

What about you?

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