from the Archives, "Mourning Gus"

All life is a gift and our gift came in a little bundle of lost fluff.

We marveled over his voracious appetite as he grew, literally, inches everyday. We coddled him in our arms, dug through the snow to get him fresh greens and named him (or her) Gus.

As the sun rose over the Wind River Valley there was a stillness to the yard that seemed unnatural. As I started for my walk I tried not to think about it until Aspen found some tail feathers and my heart constricted. “No!” I thought, “It can’t be. He’s just gone to the pond.” I went for my walk in complete denial trying with all my might to keep positive.

When I returned, we found a trail of feathers and finally the kill site. It simply broke my heart. Gussy was gone. Tracks couldn’t be found to tell us what had gotten him. We can only guess: a hungry fox, coyote or coon? None of which we really wanted to consider as a reality.

I couldn’t help but retreat to the bathroom and sob. A little girl not understanding the weight of the situation kept asking if I wanted a bow in my hair or to watch cartoons. “Would that make you feel better?” Finally in an exasperated attempt to soothe her mommy, she gave me a stuffed animal so I could “hug him, too.”

After all the years of being on the ranch I have lost my share of animals and cried over every single one of them. I will never get used to the fact that life ends; sometimes quickly and unexpectedly.

The really painful part of the situation is that the night before I had been out late checking on the kittens and wondered where Gus was holed up for the night. Usually the dogs are left out to keep any predators away. I thought about it and wondered where the big lab, Tar, was. As it turns out, she was asleep in the closet and I didn’t follow my gut that something was wrong. It makes me sick and the guilt wracks my heart.

Life’s lessons never end and as I mourn the little fuzzy guy who grew into a noble goose and was just learning to fly, I vow not to just fall into bed exhausted next time. I will keep up the vigilance that mothers are so good at and always listen to my intuition.

Gus brought us a lot of joy and for that I am grateful. My dad always had a saying: “Life is hard, she always gives the test first, the lesson after.” Lesson learned.

Originally published on the first contemporarywesterndesign.com site July 2007