It has taken me some time to be able to write this post.
Harley passed away on the morning of July 23rd. He had been sick for a couple of days and we knew that the situation was not good. The sparkle that I had come to know and love was gone. Thankfully, he took matters into his own paws and left us with grace and dignity. He died at home, peacefully in his owners arms.
Harley lived a fantastic doggy life. In his 18 years he swam and surfed in the Gulf of Mexico, he hiked mountains in Colorado, and could party with the best of them. To say that he will be missed is an understatement. I take great comfort in knowing that for the past ten or eleven years that Harley shared with me, I was able to spoil him absolutely rotten.
Even though I don’t generally buy into the hocus-pocus explanation for mysterious events, I do have an interesting story to tell.
The day before Harley died he had found himself a comfortable spot under the deck. And he stayed there for the better part of that day. We were keeping a pretty close vigil on him, but trying to give him some space. That evening a storm started to roll in. The wind picked up and the sky was filled with dark, black clouds. I was sitting on the deck just above the spot where I knew Harley was laying when amazing bolts of lightning started to flash over the hill across the street. It was the type of lightning you could feel. This light show was accompanied by thunder that was just as impressive. We had just managed to carry Harley back into the house when the heavens opened and sent down a torrent of rain. You have to understand that this was the first real thunderstorm we have had all summer. In fact, we haven’t had another one since.
When I woke up the next morning it was absolutely beautiful; clear blue sky and sunshine with that fresh, just rained smell to the air. I made a cup of coffee and sat on the floor with Harley for a while to say my goodbyes. He was buried at approximately 9:00 am.
You can take away whatever you like from that story. I like to think that Harley somehow managed to orchestrate himself one hell of a send off.
I also heard Harley’s bombast and saw his light show up in North Routt. Tchaikovsky could not have orchestrated a more rousing send-off.