Wayman Wynn Catahouligan: May 1, 2002 – June 10, 2013
Wayman Wynn, who has lived with us in this area of Texas (once the physical homeland of the most aloof of the venerable Comanche), for the past 8 and a half years, today passed into the other side of the space we occupy, in Parker County, Texas. He was born 11 years ago (maybe in May, 2002) in Arizona, and came to us via the Humane Society of Southern Arizona in Tucson, on October 15, 2002.
We loved him very, very dearly, and even though we steel ourselves to the passing of these canine ephemerals, these happy spirits, we are never prepared for the day (today), when we must, at last say our farewells to them, in this plane. We are always hopeful (a strong trait of WW’s) that they live on in the spiritual side of our Kwahadi-blessed neighborhood.
- Afternoon – June 10, 2013
Over the past few days and weeks, WW has been very sticky, and has had a couple of breathing issues, that he recovered from, but yesterday (June 10, 2013) was the day he did not bounce back. After struggling to breathe for a while, he settled into a diminished relaxation, out on the cool concrete of the back porch. We sat with him, talking with him, and using a wet rag to keep him cool. While his body seemed to shut down a little at a time – mobility, senses, etc., he kept his eyes on us, blinking occasionally, and responding somewhat to our voices and touch.
Over the last 11 years, much has been written about Wayman Wynn’s many abilities and traits. As we sobbed and talked and talked and sobbed, I was reminded of the stubbornness of these creatures – the absolute, get-down Obstinance of Catahoulas in general, and of WW specifically. One of my posts spoke to this. So as we sat, waiting for Wayman to go or stay, struggling and relaxing, we wondered how long this could go on. It occurred to me that if the latest event were a stroke, then he could go anytime – or he could linger for hours or days. Since my mother passed in the same way, I was concerned about the ‘jeopardy’ of an extended transition for him, and for us. What would we do if he lingered? As usual, I was wrong.
So we asked him what he was going to do, and we told him that it was OK to leave, that we would take all that we had learned from him, and carry on, trying to manage in this screwed up world, with a particular ‘Houla slant on the important stuff. You know, snacks, hugs, truck rides, and most of all – naps. Well, he settled in a little after that, and he even got a little pink back in his tongue (it had been so blue with the lack of oxygen from the breathing problems). His eyes were clear and steady, staring that stare, as he never, ever, ever looked away, as some dogs do. His puppy-hood was so abusive that we believed that he simply would never let us out of his sight, ever. Except for a very few, very brief times, we were never out of his presence.
On this day, we were with him as always. We bathed him with a wet cloth, and told him how beautiful he was (he always loved to hear that), and kissed him (never saw a dog like to get kissed so much), when we came back out after getting the mail from out front, we saw that he had left us, that he let himself slip into that nap that he loved the most.
He absolutely loved laying out on the rug in front of the TV, as we all watched movies, or a documentary, or some silly people doing silly things. “Why don’t we just eat – this is Silly TV.” But Wayman Wynn didn’t mind what we did, as long as we did it together. But this time, he didn’t wait for us, for his nap. He took his last nap alone, forever, alone as we all must. The time of his passing is approximate, at about 4:15 PM CDT, on the 10th of June, 2013.
- Dawn – June 11, 2013
The void in the household is obvious, but the quiet and serenity of the morning is comforting. I finished up the post above, two finger pecking it in through my tears, and preparing for the Wayman Wynn Monument to Obstinate Living, Snack Hut and Graveside Park. I took off work this Tuesday to start the project.
Wayman Wynn is planted in the east yard, near where we believe the spirit warriors of the Comanche Kwahadi band travel through this world. On bright sunny late afternoons, and in the dark of the black night, in this clearing in Texas, we see, or sense their presence, as they slip down our hallway from East to West. A band of them must have loved this little clearing in the woods by the creek. To this day, the deer and coyote are here, and they must have been here for many years before our house was built.
- “The Comanche Kwahadi band, “Antelopes,” were also known by kwah-heeher kennuh, Kwahada, Quahadi, and by other bands as “Sun-shades-on-their-backs” for their habit of using buffalo-hide parasols when riding on the staked plains. The Kwahadi were the most remote and fierce of the Comanche bands. The Kwahadi avoided many of the epidemic disasters that befell other bands simply by their remoteness and refusal to have any dealings with whites.” Mike Kearby’s Texas
So in the full light of the 3rd millennium, the hunting parties of those gone by, step through this dell occasionally. Now, they’ll have a damn good dog to help them interpret this crazy world…
- More later … Good Night, Dog Dog. You are the sweetest Boy-Dog in the Universe. Hug the Dog, Save the World…