Last night at approximately 9:35 pm my best friend died.

It was a good death, preceded by many long days spent in sunshine exploring endless scents and sights, coupled with starry starry nights spent laying in the grass staring up at the wondrous vastness of stars that twinkle their solitary songs deep in the canopy of the cosmos.

It was time.

With his brother Shepard attentively at his side and his Grandmother tending his final needs, he slipped quietly away into the eternal hunt that all great dogs must surely go to. It was a peaceful transition, it was natural… it was time.

The previous night myself, Eris and Hero had taken it upon ourselves to make the cold, wet drive up to Cuero as evening set in about us. On a usual night we would have spent our time making dinner and playing with Hero until she was ready for slumber, then settling down for some Netflix time and eventually slumber ourselves, but this was no ordinary night. Instead I had received the call during the day, from Grandma, that Raja was indeed dying.

He hadn’t been terribly active in the last month, age old injuries to both his back legs had rendered him a peculiar sort of limping walk in his youth, as though he were some kind of canine pimp, which perhaps indeed he was, walking about the Earth with an air of dignity and ownership that only a creature as pure as a dog might exude considering their inherent appreciation for smelling the roses as it were. But in his final days he took more the role of a monk, still going about his occupation as guardian of the farm, making the trek about the path that threads through my parent’s 27 acres several times a day, with his cohort Shepard close by, as they secured their territory for those they loved. Between security details he would lie in the large open area in front of the sprawling rammed earth farm house and rest. He did not sleep so much as meditate - upon the grass and the bugs and the scents and the sounds and the immediate wonder of being in the moment, something he excelled at particularly. When security or sleep were not paramount, it would be the ever delightful act of eating that would require his attentions - and ever so diligent and thorough was he in this act, leaving no scrap to waste and refusing almost nothing that came to him, either from his foraging abroad or from his kindly master’s, so fond if gifting him with the scraps of the evening meal.

In return for his diligence at eating, for he had been this way since he was but a pup, his name still tentatively Cole in those days, and he had nearly killed the very brother that was now his steadfast companion by consuming two or even three times the amount of milk from his mother Rita’s teet as the rest of the litter, often leaving poor Shepard, the runt of this amalgamation of strange puppy personalities, with little or no milk of his own. The result of this was that Shepard became a bottle fed pup while the young Cole became a massive lump of dusky fur the color of his namesake and tiny sharp teeth that were more inclined to part for a good face licking than they were for a bite. When the pups reached an amenable age to being sent out into the world, free of the need to nurse, was when Cole first entered into my life to begin our journey together, and such a journey it has been.

First there was Denton, Texas where I was attending my third year at university and studying jazz guitar performance while my brother was just starting his freshman journey into the same program for upright bass. We would sit up late into the night, drinking hot tea and listening to the jazz greats (and some not so greats) while smoking hand rolled cigarettes and discussing theory, philosophy and religion, amongst other things. At first I would make attempts to keep Natai, for so I had named him when he became mine to master, separated from the less than healthy environment, but as I would come to find was an integral part of his personality, when no one was looking Natai would sneak his way under the low coffee table we sat around and would lay there silently listening to us babble, until a tiny puppy hiccup, as he was want to have them in his early days and again in later life, would give away his position. This would inevitably result in a round of mock scolding that ended in face licking, smiles, and many many hugs of his tiny furry ball of a body. But our time in Denton was limited, and after the spring of 1996 semester ended, I felt the need to return to Baton Rouge and my friends there, along with my dreams of being a rock star, and so - ever obedient when it came to the big things - Natai came with me.

In Baton Rouge he was reunited with Valentine, named and entrusted to my life-long best friend Arley at the same time Cole was entrusted to me. Of all the pups in the litter, only Valentine would retain her tail, and that would be but the first of many accommodations that set her apart from her kin and helping to forge the little princess she has become in her time. but a good princess was she, and a perfect compatriot for Raja, for now he was so called because I decided that Natai was too close to the word ‘No’ and I had no desire to breed confusion in my little man as he struggled to make sense of my needs and desires, no more so than several name changes would breed in so short a time anyway.

Baton Rouge was a good place for a dog. It was hot, it was steamy hot and full of amazing creatures and people. As time passed by and Raja and Valentine grew into the fine young dogs they were hoped to be, we had many adventures, some scary - as was the time Raja disappeared for a week when only 2 years old only to return on his own just as hope was failing, some painful - as was the broken back leg he returned home with after apparently being hit by a car at some point in his great escape (an experience which would result in him becoming the ‘bionic moose’ for several months as metal and pins protruded form his furry leg to hold the bones right as they healed), and some were simply wonderful - such as lazy afternoons spent sitting on the porch in the sunlight listening to Bare Naked ladies echo through the house “And if you want to find me I’ll be out in the sandbox, wondering where the hell all the love has gone. Playing my guitar and building castles in the sun, and singing ‘Fun, Fun, Fun.’…” and doing nothing but lazily petting the soft heavy black fur that covered Raja from head to toe.

And yet time rolled on, as time is want to do, and we found ourselves eventually dislodged from the strange and dreamy stasis we had settled into there and found ourselves moved to Baker, Louisiana. Just a jump down the road from baton Rouge as things went, but a whole world away as far as we could tell. There Raja and Valentine, still roomies for so were Arley and I, had access to a huge yard and no immediate entrance into the strange structure that was referred to as the ‘Baker cave’ by its inhabitants. It was there they became outside dogs for a short few years, and it was there that we greeted the arrival of a new millennium, the end of naive dreams and the birth of more mature aspirations for this ever so brief life. It was also there that, while I was away in Europe on a family trip, Raja decided he could still jump a 5 foot fence (for so he and his sister could in days past, effecting many a great and puzzling escape form their various yard enclosures) and thus hung his other (as yet) undamaged leg - tearing loose both muscles and tendons and then retreating under the house where none of his many benevolent humans could get to him. He stayed there until I returned home several days later, his leg a gangrenous mess of swelling and lacerations, and I feared that after all the effort spent saving the first leg, this second was doomed to be lost. Alas, Baker, despite being of few remarkable qualities, was indeed a farm town still and as such had excellent veterinary care. It was through this fortune that we found a vet who, though slightly doubtful of the outcome, undertook the effort of fixing the leg and to both mine and Raja’s infinite delight, saved the leg after all. It was after this particular injury that his pimp-walk, for that was what we called it, became pronounced.

Still, with new millenniums afoot and frustrations brewing from our own inability to find a path through the rocky waters of Rock and Roll, myself, Arley and Tapper (our 3rd roommate and drummer - also my life-long friend now) began to find our own paths for the time being. I made the decision to return to school in New Orleans and get a degree in computer security, and thus Raja and I headed East once again to find new fields to wander in.

We were immediately joined by Mark, another life-long friend who had his own personal reasons for relocating form baton Rouge at the time, and we hunkered down in a shotgun two-story near the corner of Canal and Carrollton Avenue at the heart of the dark city. Soon we were also joined by Tapper, himself having decided to leave Baker and return to school, and so the four of us lived for some time. Eventually I needed to be closer to school and Raja and i moved into a horrific three bedroom apartment in Kenner, minutes from my work and school, but with no amenities becoming a dog who is now in what many perceived to be his last good years (though I knew better even then).

Life in Kenner proved to be hard on us both, and Raja, having no real area to go do his business in or interact with nature even, made it known to me with smelly and prolific pointedness upon my stacks of papers and books littering the place, that this was unacceptable. We were there nearly two years, though they felt like an eternity, and when we left there was not a single glance back save to make sure the car was attached to the trailer rumbling behind us as we set out for yet another new place.

With school over and my degree secured, plus the freedom of knowing that never again did i ‘have’ to go to a class if I so chose, we drove to Texas again with light hearts and visions of the unknown future before us. Once again we found a house in Austin with Arley and valentine, and there was much rejoicing at this reuniting of old friends and old family in a new place, a place with clean air and green grass and dog parks everywhere, a place where a dog could truly be a dog.

I think it safe to say that these were now in fact Raja’s last ‘good’ days in the sense that he was still fully functional and healthy, even if he took a little longer to get up off the carpeted floor and made a few extra farts when setting himself back down to rest at our feet, as we all four sat at the couch playing Fight Night on the xbox 360 late into the night. We were almost immediately joined in Austin by Mark, who unwittingly missed the onslaught of Hurricane Katrina by two weeks and became our couch border for the next 9 months. We also took on a few fellow refugees, our friend’s Beau and Isaias, both of whom I knew from school, and both of whom needed to get away form the carnage of New Orleans. For the few months that we all co-habitated the small house it was a geeky gamers dream, nothing but computers and consoles blazing late into the night and on into the dawn, someone always awake despite the odd hours, and always a hand willing to pet even a large stinky beast like Raja. However, almost as quickly as it seemed to start, that time ended, first with Isaias returning to help his family pick up the pieces, then Beau deciding that he was indeed a NOLA boy after all, though he gave Austin a good solid try. Even mark moved out into his own apartment and it was once again just the four of us in the now rather used house.

There followed the usual chaos of life, new friends and lovers, the drama that ensues with both, the frantic hunt for jobs and completion of advanced degrees, and finally the stabilization that comes with some sense of security and completion of these tasks. We settled into a sort of dazed pattern for what would be our last year in Austin proper and waited for… something.

In the coldest of morning, early in 2008 that something happened.

I was united/re-united, for that is itself quite a long story, with my wife Eris. Within two months that changed from united to married to expecting which naturally progressed on to buying a home and planning for the long haul - the ‘real’ life. We found the perfect castle, for that was what we called it - the castle house, and myself, Raja, Eris, her large cat Jack, and our unborn little girl Hero all moved into Del Valle (a suburb just South East of Austin proper) in June of 2008.

The remaining months of that year are difficult to track, as we were newly weds, expectant parents, new home owners (with all the wonderful responsibilities and complications that breeds) and both reeling form the strange and unexpected turn (for the better then best) direction our lives had taken. Raja, now inclined to laze upon his giant doggy bed most of the day, except for our evening walks to the mailbox or about the neighborhood on the weekends when Grandma and Grandpa would come visit, spent his time looking at us with his calm and sleepy eyes, head resting on his large forepaws, until such a time as he would grow bored with our human antics and let out a loud coughing bark sounds (as though clearing his throat in boredom) and rolled over onto his side to once again chase the bunnies in his mind, feet twitching and lips quivering in his dream state.

Again we got lost in time, Eris got large with baby, Jack just got large, I grew crazy with anticipation and excitement, and Raja continued to grow slowly older. One night, November 17th to be exact, the majick that is the arrival of a new human began and on the 18th I got to introduce Raja to Hero. Some of our acquaintances has posited concern about having such a large dog, Raja now weighed in at 147 pounds, around a new born baby. I however had no concern, and rightly so, for Raja treated Hero as gently as possible, sniffing her repeatedly (especially if she had a ‘present’ in her diaper) and generally tolerating far more abuse at her hands than he would at mine as she yanked and pulled upon his now grey fur and floppy, but sensitive, ears.

The months following that were bliss for us all, our new bundle of joy starting to show more and more the being that hid within her, our pets both growing plumper and sedentary in their kingdoms (Raja had the downstairs while the upstairs belonged to Jack, climbing stairs no longer being Raja’s strong suit), and Eris and I deepening the bonds of our love through the richness of our life experience together. We were one big happy family and it was wonderful, but it would not last forever.

In the later months of 2009, just as Hero began exploring on her own about the house on hands and knees, Raja began having minor continence issues. At first we just cleaned up after him and told him it was ok, for who could blame a 100 year old man? But what started as one or two accidents began to become a trend and I was faced with a decision between constant cleaning of poop (for he was too old to become an outside dog now) or a baby covered in it. With a heavy heart I called the Grandparents and ask if he could come to the farm, only an hour and a half away, to spend what was obviously becoming his final days with his brother, where there were no walls and fences, no rules and restrictions, only nature and nurturing. He was welcomed with the loving open arms that only family can provide, and as the last months of 2009 wore on with all the frantic insistence that a job and family demands of a man, I let Raja recede from my thoughts.

We made a trip to Cuero in January, as my parents were in Los Angels for the birth of my brother Jamie’s baby Amariah, and so the farm needed some eyes on. We spent a night there huddled in front of the large fireplace, Hero wrapped tight and sleeping in the blankets before us as we stared into the burning coals, and as we relaxed in the silent calm of a ‘unwired’ home, my thoughts turned to the moose moose, that had been one of his many nicknames and I still fondly thought of him as so, and his health. The next day as we prepared to leave the farm, he followed me about as best he could, a little slow these days but still able to walk and bark and nuzzle lovingly on my thigh. I left that day feeling that regardless of how things played out after that point, all was for the best.

It is a good memory to cling to now as I try and make sense of Raja not being there, laying under the large oak tree and barking at the Guinea hens as they squawk at him from the rooftop nearby.

So it was that just a few weeks later, this Wednesday, I received the call that I never wanted to get in all my life but knew would one day come… Raja is dying.

I almost hesitated on going that night, thinking ‘He’ll make it to the weekend, then I will go see him’ but Eris, perfect wife that she is, insisted we should go that very evening. I agreed and thus we made the cold wet drive in darkness, our hearts heavy with the impending loss they felt, my eyes bleary from far more than exhaustion or rain. It was almost 9pm when we arrived, and it was Grandma;s birthday - not that she wanted to associate her birthday with this event, so after a brief hug and happy birthday wish I went straight out to the mudroom, that was where Shepard and Raja now stayed their colder nights, on large cushioned pillows around a very effective space heater, and saw my little baby boy one last time.

His ears perked up as I entered the mudroom, lifting his head enough to turn and cast his large foggy eyes on me, and his front paw made the slight scraping at air motion he always made when he wanted me to sit down and have a good scratch of the back with him. I could no longer fight back the tears I had been struggling to hold in and so I sat next to him in the musty little room, the outside door open so that the soft woosh of the evening breeze could be heard rustling across the tree tops, and I cried while giving him one last better-than-good scratching.

Eris and Hero came in for a few minutes, but then left us alone again as they saw I needed some time. Eventually Eris cam back alone, Hero now preoccupied with Grandma and a little upset by the strange sadness emanating from her Daddy and Mommy, and paid her respects to Mr. Bear, another of his many wonderful names. The four of us sat in silence, we numbered four because as I said - Shepard was not willing to leave his brothers side, all holding hands and paws and listening to the wind blow. After some time Eris went back inside and left us alone again, Grandma convincing even Shepard to come inside for a little while so it was just Raja and I.

I retold him the story of his life, our life, much as I have here, and stroked his bristly coat, for age had made him scruffy now, while he lay there staring off into some unseen distance and breatheing heavy labored breaths… dying breaths. He was alert as ever, and seemed ot be in no pain that I could detect, save for the inevitable reality that inside his body everything was slowing down, the gears no longer fitting in place correctly, the system no longer in unison. He seemed to be at ease, at least once I was there with him, and so long as he was being petted, and after I had said all I could say, we just existed for a time.

I rubbed all his favorite spots one last time, extra good on the belly and throat since they were his favorites, and then curled up with him so I could give one long last bear hug. We stared into each others eyes for what seemed an age, until there were no more tears to cry, no more way to say I love you, I have always loved you, I will always love you…

At last I forced myself to let him go, to stroke his muzzle one last time, and turn away. We loaded the car and gave Grandma another happy birthday wish then saddled up. I dared one last glance thorugh the mudroom window and saw, to my delight, that Raja had raised his head and was listening to something, head cocked as he oft did when concentrating on a sound. He snuffed loudly and returned to his reclining positon, head resting on his one outstruck leg, and closed his eyes.

That was the last time I saw my little boy.

As we drove home I let it all out, all the remianing tears and sorrow, I let it all go and felt that the torrential downpour of rain and wind was very appropriate, that nature herself was in mourning with me as we waited for the passing of one of the truly great dogs in this world.

The next morning I awoke numb and displaced, going through the motions of work and life but feeling none of it. I let myself become distracted by the busy-ness of it all and let the grieving go for a time. It was a long day and I was busy with work, babies, dinner, and finally teleconferences until around 9pm when I finally called Cuero to check in on Raja. He was still there, about the same as last night Grandma said, and she informed me that the vet was coking over in the morning around 9am to administer a shot to him, to end his suffering, to end the waiting. I couldn’t help but wonder who the shot was more for - him or us? I put that thought out of my mind, recognizing that after four days of not moving, not eating, not drinking, it was indeed time. Time to go play in the eleysian fields and chase the big cats through eternity. I got off the phone and ask that Grandma please stay with him in the very end, and the she note the time for me and then contact me as soon as she could. She said she would and we got off the line. Still numb, not sure whether I was shattering or melting or just frozen inside, I went back to sitting with Eris and Hero and trying to pretend that it was just another Thursday night. Grandma called me back a little less than an hour later.

“I just wanted to let you know that Raja is gone…”

The finality of those words gripped my like an icy fist squeezing my heart until it was about to burst into the wet, steamy mess that it had become. I thanked her for the update and got off the line. I told Eris and Hero, and with a blankness that even I didn’t understand returned my attention to the television. As I sat there letting entertainment roll over me, trying to focus on the insignifigance of whether or not Peter had actually saved the cheerleader or not, something in me began to lighten. At first I didnt want it too, I fought to hold onto that dark pain that marks the end of something powerful, something essential to your being that once torn asunder can never in a million lifetimes be replaced. And yet, try as I did to retain my grieving it continued to reverberate in my mind that Raja was indeed now at peace. Whether or not I liked it, regardless of if I thought it was fair or right, he was at peace. It was with these thoughts in my mind that I went to bed, exhausted and spent, but the hollowness of the night before was now replaced with a soft glowing reassurance that wherever Mr.Bear was now, he will always be with me.

I reached over and turned off the light, saying to myself one last time “Good night old boy, you were the best dog ever and I love you… always. Now go play with Otis and Sister and wait for me at the clearing at the end of the path”.

And that is where he is now, resting and staring at endless blue skies, in the clearing at the end of the path.

12:55 pm 2.4.2010