Today, I was in the garden picking late summer okra and Dorothy picking Crowder peas.  Tropical Storm Fred is approaching, so we wanted to harvest what we could before heavy rains inundate the garden.  The end of the season is approaching, time to bush hog the remnants, rework and plant a fall cover crop for overwintering the garden.

Petunia, our blind Boykin spaniel accompanied us to the garden this morning.  Riding in her spot on the floor of the golf cart, she was pleased to explore the smells of the garden, much different than the bland grass of the back yard. 

Normally she wanders towards the strongest smells.  Either the compost heap or other areas she finds interesting will attract her curiosity.  She manages to navigate well between the stalks of okra, the dying corn, and the left-over cantaloupes or melons.  She has the most difficulty in the tighter crops, like the field peas, or tight areas of dead clover and weeds.  Today, she found two areas that proved most interesting.

The first area of exploration was the two beehives, in the far corner of the garden.  Her acute sense of smell brought her to the base of hive number two.  I suspect she was noting the smell of honey, but I am not sure.  Dorothy rescued her before disaster struck.  She escaped with no serious injuries and not one bee sting.

The second area of exploration that kept her the longest was a ripened melon. She found it beside the long row of red okra.  It had been pecked open by the crows, with just enough of a hole for her to insert her nose.  This was a melon, which has dark green skin, which I had left for saving its seeds, one of a kind, a volunteer from last season. 

She lingered over the melon as I watched for at least 15 minutes.  She started by lapping up the inner juices, then she ate the pulp and some of the seeds.  I was glad when I finally harvested the remains to have at least a handful of seeds remaining in the bottom of the hollowed-out section.  I have just enough seeds to propagate the melon next year.  I have lost the name, but it is a delicious fruit.

Petunia, our blind spaniel, has a sweet tooth.  With no eyes to see, but with a sensitive sniffer she finds delights in the garden, some dangerous, but some adding delight to her morning.  I don’t know what it is like to be blind, but she does!  I am continually amazed at how much she can do, even though blind, to satisfy her innate doggy curiosity.

Boykin spaniels are made to retrieve ducks and other fowl for their owner.  They tend to like water.  There are Boykin Spaniel trials across the state of South Carolina which are held regularly, to help the breed and give owners a way to rate the training of their spaniel(s).  I have only seen one of these events, and it was quit exciting.  Our Petunia never participated in any trials, she has served well as a family dog and companion to our Corgi, named “Buddy.” They were together for at least 9 years, until he passed from us at the ripe age of 12.  She now has the run of the basement all to herself, and is often found sleeping contently on her pillow bed, to the sound of either the Olympics or whatever else is on the TV.

Petunia mourned the loss of our Buddy for at least a month, regularly howling in the morning each day when she did not find him.  I have never heard a more mournful cry, nor have I noted any animal grieving for her companion any better than she.

I lost my youngest sister Mary two weeks ago and we buried her last Saturday.  I remembered Petunia’s cry for Buddy and it helped me mourn my sister.   I did not find adequate words to express my grief at Mary’s funeral,  so I remembered Petunia’s cry of loss for her best friend.  I cannot think of a more adequate response than this.

A fleeting thought went though my mind, not Dorothy’s, that perhaps we should put Petunia down when Buddy died. I was afraid she might not cope.  But I am so glad I have been proven wrong.  One of our cats, Umlaut, died a few weeks earlier than Buddy.  He was unable to eat and had to be put down as he was starving for food.  No matter what Dorothy gave, Umlaut could not keep any food down.  The vet recommended to her that he not be allowed to suffer and so he is gone as well.  He was my friend and sat with me on the couch.  Whenever I sat down to read or watch TV he lay right beside me.  It has not been the same without him.

We have one cat remaining, Albus, who is pleased to be the only cat remaining in the house.  He has no one to compete with for our attention.  Albus is Dorothy’s cat, not mine. He has only recently found me to be tolerable.

Not haven grown up with any pets of my own, I am often wondered why persons I knew spent so much time attending to and showing affection to their creatures.  But I am coming to understand our attachment to our creatures just a little bit.  Having done many funerals over the years, I found it a profound blessing to says my blind dog Petunia taught me how to grieve for my missing sister.  The are no words that express my loss, only a mournful cry.  Like Petunia, every morning I will cry out, silently mourning, remembering she is no longer with us.  And like Petunia, I will not say any words.  Silence speaks loudly.  It is enough for now.  It is enough for me.

Bill Wilson, servant of God, by God’s grace and mercies, in Jesus Christ my Lord.

There have surely been too many deaths, and now the Covid -19 delta.  “We are missing too many of us, O Lord!  There are too many of us gone!”

August 15, 2021.