Fin’s Tale (Michelle Riedlinger)

April 19, 2014 § Leave a comment

Today 2 years ago I had to let go of my first ever dog, my beautiful little kelpie girl. I still miss her at my feet every day. She was perfect and sweet, and she brought a lot of friends into my life. Many, many years back, one of my friends wrote a story about her after a weekend trip.

Thank you Michelle, for agreeing to post your story on my blog.

And my beautiful Fin, I still will never forget you or leave you behind. Ever.

 

Fin’s Tale

The bag was on the verandah and that could only mean one thing – we were going away! I’d often see Angi pack and my tail would droop lower and lower as she moved about the rooms packing and shutting things up. Would I get to go or would I be under the house with a chicken wing for company? Sometimes she would drag my bag out at the last minute, putting my food and leash into it as if I was some sort of afterthought. But not today! Today there was no doubt that wherever she was going, I was going too.

I gave the bag a sniff while she pottered around with last-minute human things. My bag still smelt like our trip to the sea, which could have been years ago or just yesterday. Sometimes having a short-term memory was a blessing but it could also be very frustrating, particularly if you were hungry and no one was about. It could feel like days since you were fed but it might have only been two hours ago.

Angi’s friend arrived in the blue car and gave me an absent pat on her way through the door. She always seemed in such a rush, and way too excitable. I know all about excitability being a kelpie. They fiddled around for ages trying to tie their bikes on the back of the car. Angi would occasionally turn to me and say, “Fin – stay”. Like I was going anywhere! I kept my eyes glued to them just in case they forgot me in the rush.

Finally they bundled my bag into the car and I got a prime spot on the back seat. There is nothing like the wind in your ears as the car goes along and I’m glad they remembered to wind down the window for me for a change – they could be so thoughtless sometimes. But this was turning out to be a great trip.

We drove for a while and then stopped to pick up another person who smelt vaguely familiar. She called my name and showed me her teeth in that way humans do when they are pleased. This reminded me of wonderful times past. I licked her face with enthusiasm but she responded by pushing me away with her arm. Some people really do lack decent social skills. Never mind – it isn’t their fault if they aren’t brought up properly I suppose.

I settled down on the back seat while the car rocked back and forth. The humans seemed to be doing a lot of looking through the back window at the bikes on the bike rack but no one seemed to want to stop the squeaking. Was I the only one that heard it? I tried a couple of times to see what was going on by squashing my face against the back windscreen but all I got was, “Fin – down” from Angi. “Fine,” I thought, “I won’t help!”

It was dark and I woke from a snooze when I felt the car slow down and turn into a driveway. The smells were unmistakable. This was a fun place for sure. Hazy memories of exhausted bliss were linked to what I could smell. The car stopped and the humans piled out of the car calling, “Come on Fin”. They didn’t have to say it twice.

–Michelle Riedlinger, 2004

 

Fin, in 2006.

Fin, in 2006.

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