September 13, 2007

Instructing Clay in the art of grave digging as we await our friend the vet and his needle

I had waited a long time to name her. I carried the name from my teenage years, that of my favorite author. Now I read his words and they resonate, but I am not roaming the deserts of the southeast as I thought I would at 40. Now Abbey is the name of my beloved companion, who followed me through relationships, through school and into parenthood and career. Even so, I still skim Desert Solitaire, One Life at a Time, The Journey Home, trying to make the connection. Abbey the dog did accompany me west, briefly, to the heights of the Wind River Range, although she wasn't crazy about the saddlebags she bore. She was not wild, nor were most of the places we hunted. But she grounded me just as Ed Abbey's words did in ninth grade.

Although we are voyaging blind and ignorant,

without map or compass or guide,

I know that sometime soon we should reach

the mouth of the... River

Desert Solitaire, Edward Abbey 1968