Scherzo
Gone to Rainbow Bridge October 28, 2001
at four years, four months

In December 1997, Scherzo was four months old and had been with me two. I practised a free-style of pole T'ai-Chi in the park, riding there on my mountain bike every morning in all weathers. I always took Scherzo along in a cloth rucksack on my back. He loved the cold and the snow. It was a very cold New Year's Day morning.

The clouds constantly reflecting the first rays of the sun, changed through all shades of colour and light. I was thrilled by the drama enacting above. When I looked at the tree where Scherzo was tied, he was not there - only his harness. I looked all around. He was nowhere. The ground was thick with freshly fallen snow, the park empty. I called his name repeatedly, my voice growing louder, more piercing, my steps getting more rapid until I was running, changing directions haphazardly. I ran to the place where there are usually squirrels and pigeons feeding. Scherzo never tired of chasing pigeons and squirrels. But he was not there.

Just then I heard the whine of snow-blowing machines. I saw two enter the park. Frantic, I ran towards them, waving them to stop. But they sped away and the drivers could not see me. I had visions of these monsters running over, their fearsome machinery scooping up and cutting up, my puppy, blowing snow into the air pink with his baby blood.

I ran to the emergency telephone. It was answered by a watchman, stupefied by New Year drink. I banged down the phone. I ran on and on, calling out, "Scherzo, Scherzo, come here at once... please..." I fell down an unexpected slope, landing in a pile near some bushes. My woolen hat was knocked off. I suddenly felt something warm and moist against my bald scalp. Looking up, I hugged Scherzo, weeping into his thick fur. Later that month, there was the Ice Storm of the Century.

Scherzo and I were the only tenants remaining in the apartment house. There was no heating, hot water or warm food. He slept at my feet, a four-legged hot-bottle. 

In May, 1998, I was mysteriously stricken with meningitis. I boarded Scherzo with a friend during the two months I was hospitalized. He encouraged me to walk again during my convalescence. When I recovered, we had a happy, fun-filled three years together - until October, when he succumbed to a prolonged seizure. His presence is still strong. I see him when I wake and at night. I hear his bark at various times of the day. Gone, his love remains...

Loved, remembered and missed by Stephen.