How!

I have spent most of the morning cleaning the trailer, because our great friends, Renee and Drew, are coming to visit us! They are driving down from Wimberley to spend the day with us, and Tony and I can’t wait to see them!

Now, that our trailer is as clean as it can be, and looks like we don’t live here, I wanted to tell you about what else happened out here a week ago, Sunday.

Fly Friedman, one of the first dogs that we ever rescued, nine years ago, who Kinky adopted six years ago, when we moved over here, had had a stroke, earlier in the week, and was now on her death bed. Sunday morning, Kinky called me to ask me to come over to check on Fly.

I drove over to the Lodge, Kinky greeted me at the gate, and we walked around the Lodge where Fly was. When I saw her glazed eyes—I knew she was knocking on death’s door. After telling Kinky that the time was near, we discussed what we should do. It was decided that Kinky and Goat, would take her to Hoegemeyers Animal Clinic in Kerrville.

I grabbed Fly’s quilt from her bed, and laid her on it. Jamal and Kinky then carried her to Kinky’s car and placed her gently, in the backseat. Then Goat and Kinky drove away. I went back to the rescue ranch to find Tony and John.

When I found them, I told them what was going on, and then asked them to please help me dig a grave for Fly. Tony and John grabbed the shovels, and we took off for Kinky’s. The only help I provided was to show Tony and John where Kinky wanted Fly to be buried. John and Tony grabbed their shovels and went to work—digging the grave.

When the grave was dug, the three of us came back over to the rescue ranch. When I walked inside the trailer, Kinky was leaving a message on the answering machine. I quickly picked up the phone!

“Kinky, I’m here!”

“Fly has died,” Kinky said, with sadness in his voice.

“Oh, okay,” I said.

“We had just passed Upper Turtle Creek Road, and Fly barked. Goat told me to pull off the side of the road, so he could get into the backseat with her. Goat put Fly’s head on his lap, and then said an Indian prayer for her. She died instantly. We went ahead and drove to Hoegemeyers and both vets pronounced her dead. We are on our way back now. Would you ask John and Tony if they can help me dig her grave?”

“Tony and John have already dug her grave, and John just left to go home.”

“I would really like a copy of that picture you took of Fly, a few years back. I’ll call you when we get back to the ranch.”

I found the picture of Fly, printed it out and then framed it for Kinky. Then Tony and I found a few things that we wanted to be buried with Fly, including one of my old, white Kinky for Gov caps. Then Kinky called, and asked us to come over. They were back.

Tony and I drove over to the Lodge in Kermit. Everyone was at the graveside waiting for us. I handed Kinky the picture, and showed him what Tony and I had brought to have buried with Fly. Then I teared up, and went inside the Lodge, for a minute.

When I came outside, Stuart was barking at Gooie and Kinky was trying to keep them away from each other. In one fell swoop, I bent down and grabbed Stuart. Their wannabee battle was put on hold.

Kinky and Tony wrapped up Fly inside Fly’s quilt, and then they carefully lowered her into the grave. Kinky then said some kind words about Miss Fly Friedman, and Marcie and I teared up.

After we had all said our goodbyes to Fly, Kinky pushed dirt into her grave with his hands, as Tony shoveled in more dirt. I was sad, and tried to fight back the tears, until I heard a loud deep voice, from the other side of the grave—making weird wailing, chanting sounds!

It was horrible—it was Goat. Fly’s death must have pushed him over the edge. He was doing some kind of Indian chant (even though he isn’t really a Native American, but tells everyone that he is). “Hey, ya, who, ya, he, he, wah...” etc. To me, it was like a scene from a bad 50’s Western, where the fake Indian actors, are dancing wildly around a campfire—doing a Hollywood version of a war dance! “Yo, he, ha, ha, oh, bo, heya...”

I couldn’t help but laugh, again— silently though. I looked over at Marcie, her brow was wrinkled and she was trying not to laugh by biting her lower lip. That made me laugh more, but I hid my silent laughter behind Stuart’s red hair. Then Kinky accidentally, let out one huge laugh, as his hands continued to add dirt on to Fly’s grave. “Heka, mooka, he ya, hey, sha na na na...”

“Kiss that boy goodbye!” I whispered. I was silently laughing so hard—Stuart was shaking in my arms. Then I did exactly what I should not have done—I looked over at Tony, still shoveling dirt, and I lost it! He had this serious expression on his face and when he glanced up at me—he shot me a wink, and shook his head! As Goat continued, “be, he, do be heya...”

Finally, when all of the dirt was back on Fly’s grave—the funeral was over, and so was Goat—thank goodness. Marcie went back inside the Lodge, followed by Goat. Kinky thanked Tony for helping, and then went inside the Lodge, to his office, where he hung Fly’s picture on the wall, near his desk.

Tony grabbed the shovels, and we boarded Kermit, to go home. When we were out of earshot, I laughed, and said, “That was the weirdest funeral that I have ever been to. Poor Fly. Goat’s about as much of a Native American as you are, Tony. I was waiting for Fly to roll over in her grave.”

Tony laughed. “Didn’t I tell you that I’m an American Indian, too—like Goat? Tee a tay, tee oh toe, tee i ticky tie, tee oh toe,...”

I laughed all of the way home as Tony chanted on. I will never forget that funeral! Rest in peace Fly Friedman. I love you, and you were a great dog. I’m glad I knew you.

Renee and Drew arrived around noon today, and as always, we had the best time! We laughed until it hurt, discussed politics, gardening, books, future plans, etc. while my iPod serenaded us in the background, with my favorite music. Unfortunately, they had to leave around 3:00, and Tony and I already miss them, and can’t wait to see them, again!