I keep getting blindsided by reminders that Little Bear doesn’t live here anymore. Finished a peanut butter jar yesterday and I swear I was halfway through turning around to offer it to LB when reality hit.
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They say that Louis XIV had the inscription Ultima Ratio Regum cast into all the cannon of the French Army. It means “The Ultimate Argument of Kings,” and that always struck me as one of the most honest and up-front things any ruler or would-be ruler ever said. “We can dress it up prettier than this, but when it comes down to the unvarnished truth this is what it’s about: You’ll do as I say or I’ll send my goons to kill you.”
I thought about that for a long time. If there’s an ultimate argument, it seems only logical that there must be an ultimate answer. For years I thought the ultimate answer must be the bullets in my rifle, but it never seemed quite right. I’ve got bullets – he’s got frigging Cannon Balls. I mean, if there were three hundred million rifles throwing bullets at him, then maybe. But we all know that’s not going to happen. So if there’s an ultimate answer to his ultimate argument, it sure as hell ain’t bullets.
It finally came to me – and that’s when I abandoned the city and most of my stuff, and gave all that was behind me a good stiff Randian Shrug.
The ultimate answer to kings is not a bullet, but a belly laugh.
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Joel, you’ve got another month or so of doing things like that. I lost my back porch cat six weeks ago (to a pack of neighborhood dogs) and I still look out the door to see if she’s there. Yes, it’s sad, but it reminds me of what a good kitty she was and how much I really loved her.
Had a Ridgeback that died several years ago, with a very distinctive 0430 “time to get up and get a drink” activity pattern. Claws clicking on the tile, walks to the kitchen for the water, walks back to her bed. I heard that for weeks after she passed on. Couple of visits in dreams too, was a very playful and happy dog in those also. They become part of our lives in many ways.
As long as we remember, they’re immortal, right?
That is your sub-conscious prepping you to consider a new four footed self propelled rug with teeth.
It does take time to adjust. I still on occasion “hear” the black Scotty snoring at the foot of my bed, dog has been gone 3 years and the alternate dog (the Westie) is a) quieter and b) also getting up in years.
Could be both of us will be looking or at least keeping an eye out for a new to the family K9. Keep the jar with remnants, could need it sooner than you think.
I know the feeling: It has been 6 years, and I still miss my dog.
And yes, I do stuff like that once in a while, even now.
I still see my rottie Liesl on the bed, still ‘feel’ her on my feet at night. It’s been over 3 weeks. But… dammit, now I’ve got weepy eyes again. Big tough guy, weepy girly tears. Sucks.
I don’t know if you’ll get used to it. You’ll just replace it with something new.
Hang in there.