Of the terrible wildfires that occur in California, one burned right up to the outskirts of town. Somewhere in that burn, an old survivor was found. He was turned over to the shelter where he was to be euthanized because of his age. That July, I knew he was the one to be my 20 year old Keli's companion.
Jeffery was Abe Lincoln long, measuring 3 feet from nose to tip of tail. His muscles decimated, no measurable fat, missing teeth and arthritis, he and 20 year old Keli began their sojourn together. She often left her food for him to finish off. They were good buddies though not cuddlies. He kept her company for the last nine months of her life.
Having lived an estimated 17 years in a naturally setting, he must have known instinctively. When she died, in March, Jeffery jumped up on the bed and sat still and quiet beside her for an hour. I'd had no idea they had bonded so deeply. That night he laid stretched out beside me from my shoulder to knees, looking deeply into my eyes. Everything from that time on showed me he was grieving, too. He withdrew to sit curled up underneath the lone pine tree in the front yard, his favorite place, perhaps a comforting reminder of his younger days living in his forest home.
Six months later, in September, Jeffery was not himself. I suspected it was time for a check up. To see the vet, I drove on the highway next to where the fire had occurred, the land barren and dry. Driving up the steep hill, we came to area where picturesque houses and acres of trees had once flourished. Jeffery noticed it too, though he had no view of what I was seeing. He must have smelled his old neighborhood and the memory of the fire triggered his panic. Jeffery, who rode silently until that moment, began a supernatural caterwauling. It nearly scared me to death. I could feel his adrenaline vibrating through me as he frantically clawed the metal door of his carrier. I had no idea he was tearing his nails on that door until later. I didn't dare pull over and stop. I could tell he was beyond consoling at that point. As I peeked over the back seat I could see he had not forgotten the terror of the fire. He was failing. When we arrived at the vet, it was best to say farewell. With his eyes wise but tired, he passed peacefully in my arms.
Jeffery is buried in his favorite place, beneath the pine tree in the front yard.
