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…
20 November 2014: Almost 18 months since WW, and his nephews, Marvin and Argyle, aka Dog Biscuits have been with us over a year.They are a senior bonded pair, and are certainly carrying on the tradition of Martha Jane, Wayman Wynn, et al, being just as stubborn and loveable as all get out. =>
Originally posted September 5, 2007 but it’s always Christmas when there’s dog in the house…
The years go so very fast and before you know it that romping pup is old and grey muzzled and they have sat by our sides while we read, watch TV, and work on our computers. Every so often they come and lay their heads in our laps, toss our elbow with their muzzle or gaze into our eyes and wait for us to notice them. Take a moment now to commune. Continue reading
So I’ve Been Busy
OK, so I haven’t exactly been burning up the dog-blog waves lately. It’s been a very busy year, and there’s all kinds of doggone good stuff happening, and that has taken my attention. We do a lot of reading and watching historical movies on the SatTV, and our local library has started with the movie DVDs, so the folks are watching a lot of stuff about Elizabeth I, who lived a long time ago, but likes dogs, I guess.
There are tons of dog stories and news items about dogs, so that takes a lot of time. We’ve a got a new First Dog, Bo Obama, and that’s neat. We just celebrated Dogs Rule 2009, and that’s a 5 Paw event.
Save the Dog, Hug the World
Aarroo! First off, Happy 2009 to all the pups and peeps. Secondly, how come there are not more frequent ‘Year of the Dog’ designations? So 2009 is the Year of the Ox? Huh? Oxes don’t blog, and last time I checked it’s nearly impossible to hug one. W00f, every other year or so should be the Year of the Dog.
Again this year, my official New Year’s Resolution will be: Pretend to be Patient. ta-da! Mum and Pop are always bugging me to stop wiggling when it gets to be about 3 hours from suppertime, you know when my wiggilometer goes off. I can not help it. The dang wiggle starts at the tip of my tail and bedore you know it, every part of my doggy body is in motion. It also goes off when one of my peeps comes home after going out for a while. I wiggle so much that they really fuss at me. A lot. ;0)
So I will try again this year to sit perfectly still when the dish comes out and the IAMS goes in and the roast beef trimmings goes in, and the hot water sloshes around, and the …. what the f…? Oh no, the tip of my tail started, you know, wiggling even writing about it. Good grief, I hope they don’t come in here while my mutt is palpitating just writing about supper.
That’s all. I gotta go lick something now and try to practice my inner Zen Dog. So all my pupper friends out there, blog back with your New Years Resolutions. W00f, football and snacks later today… 😉 WW
Erwitt’s selection of 820 photographs of dogs, taken across 50 years, offers astonishing variety in age, breed and expression from battered strays to pampered pooches, towering great danes to chihuahuas and yorkies, young puppies joyfully charting the world to grizzled mongrels peacefully snoozing. Location is equally varied with dogs from 30 and more countries from Brazil to Burma, Morocco to Mexico, New Guinea to Iran. Yet finally, Erwitt’s stated aim was to create, ‘not a book of dog pictures, but of dogs in pictures’ and it is above all shots linked with humans – touching, sometimes eccentric, frequently comic – which provide the most memorable among many appealing images in this heartwarming collection. (Kirkus UK) Posted in Amazon
Aarroo, Pupsters! So now we get to the real important issues in this election. When President-Elect Obama said Tuesday night in his Victory Speech, that his family would get that new puppy to go to Washington, my ears perked up. My Mom and Pop have been listening to all these screaming hoomans on the TV for several months now, yammering about all kinds of, well, boring stuff.
Now this Obama guy says today that the White House Dog Issue is an important decision to make. And today when he had his first news conference, whatever that is, he made me sit up and really listen. He said ‘shelter dog’ and then the magic phrase that really got me howling agreement. “Of course we really want to get a shelter dog, they are all mutts like me.” Aarroo!
I‘m a Catahoula, and we are the ultimate American Mutts, with our ancestors being a splendid mixture of the American Red Wolf, with the best and strongest of cousins from the Old World. We all found ourselves in this amazing place, this America, where we all worked and lived and barked out in our own voices across the centuries, becoming what we are today: handsome American Mutts.
So you go, Sir! Pick one of us shelter dogs to play with, and help protect your family, to snurl at the occasional overbearing news persons, to give you photo ops that remind our country that you and your family are just like my family. There’s nothing like a dog to keep this deal running straight, and help keep our priorities in line. OK? Now let’s eat… 😉 WW
Note: As this time there are 100’s puppies in the Petfinder List for Washington, DC, and they all look like winners, and some might be hypo-allergenic.
If anyone deserves their own holiday, it’s dogs. So let’s celebrate our best friends and recognize their contribution to the quality of life on earth. All we have to do is give our own dogs a little extra love, share our stories and pictures with friends, and do a little something extra to make the world a better place for dogs. This gets 5 w00fs – WW
Amid the chaos of a mass evacuation — when every second counts — even the most beloved companion animals can be overlooked and left behind. Big woofs and hugs to these folks who make a difference 24/7 year-round. Tell your fiends and get your hoomans to contribute to this outfit, now and from now on…
Take a look at the staff, training and equipment this group puts on the road, where ever and when ever they are needed. Also the history of the endeavor goes back to WWI… 5 w00fs – FF
Last month was the 5th anniversary of my discovery by my hoomans on the Petfinder website, in the Hooman Society of Southern Arizona (HSSA) shelter, in Tucson, Arizona. Thank you, Mom, for seeing my skinny self on the web, and going ‘eek’. She says it was a surprise to see such a bootiful face looking back at her. And to Dad, for staying up with me those first nights when I was stoned out of my mind (after the ‘fix’ thing) and was wearing that stoopid neck cone thingy, and had to be walked day and night to relieve myself and my fears.
Thanks to the folks at HSSA, for running such a wonderful place like the shelter, and most of all, for not giving up on me when I was so sad I couldn’t eat. A special tail wag for my ‘trainer’ at HSSA, who kept on working with me to pull me back to the world, to take me out to PetSmart, to meet people who actually loved dogs. I was a mess after my beginning in life, and thanks to HSSA for changing the direction of my life. Continue reading