For Ashi
The deal was 20 years.
That’s the bargain we struck before her velvety 12lb puggle body passed the threshold of my (soon to be, our) apartment. In retrospect, I should of have insisted on a contract; stamped her paw in binding ink, but I fell for the oldest trick in the book — she wiggled that soon-to-be infamous booty, passed the entryway of our front door, looked me square in the eye, and pooped.
That was under 20 years ago because today she would have turned 17.
Even writing those words — I just had to stop and collect myself (translation: I’m crying again). Something I’ve done most days since Ashi left her physical body on December 23rd, 2022. It feels like yesterday. Or was it a lifetime ago? All I know is everything I knew dramatically changed. As it tends to do when you lose a love-of-your-life.
Her death came as death tends to do: swift yet gradual, stealth yet like a frying pan to the face. I guess I should have seen it coming — Ashi had been battling dementia for several years. This meant endless loops that would have broken every puppy pedometer record, doggie diapers (all hail the pink-piggie-pantied-puggle!) since she forgot the difference between inside and outside, and a shuttle service up and down the stairs because she started launching herself from the landing. And don’t even get me started on the poop-n-stomps. I’m just gonna leave that there.
But the fact remains: it was the honor of a lifetime to witness her journey from obstinate, wriggling pup to a floppy, frosted-face senior. And when I say “an honor,” I mean seeing her through the entire way.
I knew it wasn’t where or how I wanted, but I knew it was time. She gave me the sign in upstate New York, mere days before the world was shutting down for Christmas. I wanted her to hold on, to give us one last week together, to make the trip home to Charleston, so she could die in the comfort of her home. But again, that’s not how death works. It takes; it doesn’t wait.
My mother-in-law recommended the woman who had recently put down her cat. She could come to the house — a small yet reassuring comfort when everything felt upside down. I struggled with the idea of a stranger ushering my baby to her next life until I heard her name. Valerie. The same name as the friend who drove with me to pick up Ashi for the first time.
Valerie helped usher Ashi into my life, and Valerie would help escort her out. And the meaning behind the name Valerie? Brave, valiant, fierce. I shook my head and said yes. Valerie would arrive the next day at noon.
I awoke the next morning paralyzed with fear. If I got out of bed, the day would start. It would all become real. The last day I would ever have in this body with my girl. So I sat with my tarot cards, asking for some kind of sign; some omen that we were making the right choice. This is the card I pulled:
STRENGTH
Strength. A woman lovingly calming her animal; the symbol of eternal life floating above her head. To pull directly form the Rider deck, “A person who draws this card may also have the literal ability to tame wild creatures, in an almost magical way. It is a great card for anyone who works with animals, such as a veterinary surgeon or a nurse. If you are in a conflict situation and you draw this card, remember that right is on your side in any actions you undertake.”
I got out of bed. Strength.
I brushed my teeth and wove my hair into eight sections. Ashtau, Hindi for eight. Ashi, short for Ashtanga. Each section tied with knot magic. Strength.
Our final photo together.
Knot magic in my hair.
I went out into the snow to collect fir branches to create a ritual circle. I decorated it with flowers and candles, speckled it with Ashi’s favorite treats. I created a sigil from the words that summed her up: Love of my life. I drew it on a piece of paper and tied it to her neck. We would keep a candle burning with her symbol so she could always find us. Strength.
I sat on the kitchen floor as she walked her loop, occasionally stopping to lick the top of a local pint of vanilla ice cream. I waited for my wife to return from her errand only to learn she crashed into an ice bank from the impending storm. I didn’t know if she’d make it back in time. Strength.
Kate made it home. So did Valerie. I carried her tiny body into the circle where we cradled her and said our goodbyes. We opened the doors to Summerland and she passed right through. Her spirit left her body. Her body left my arms. Strength.
She returned to us in ashes. A tuft of fur and imprint of her paw. Every ounce of strength fled from my body as I sat with these remains. So I spread my deck of 78 cards. I held her close and asked if she was still with me. I pulled a card.
Strength.
