The Written Word
for December 26, 2001

Christmas, when you reach a certain age, becomes something you see first, through the eyes of your children, then your grandchildren and then, through a brandy glass, some nostalgic music and memories. I am in the second of those two stages and thanks to the fact that my oldest daughter bided her time until marriage, may be lucky enough to see another two or three years of wide-eyed Santa believers, impatiently waiting to tell me what wonders the kind old gent in the sleigh brought them.

But Christmas often surprises you – if you’re lucky enough to have a life-love that knows how to do those things.

In the early Fall of 2000, a very good photographer, Peter Nielsen of Ladner, asked if he could do some photos of me for promotional reasons – I would get to use whatever I liked. He took a marvelous picture of Wendy and me in our newly bought townhouse in Lions Bay and some of me casting fly line, with our chocolate Lab Clancy making his way into many of them.

They were very good pictures indeed – in fact we asked Peter to prepare some for mounting on a collage and he did so. But, of course, time passes, and the refurbishing of our new pad with the million dollar view of Howe Sound took up a lot of energy and even more moolah. The collage was something "we must get to one day soon".

Then, on August 3^rd 2001 the terrible day Wendy and I dreaded arrived. Clancy was 12, riddled with cancer and in pain. What a dog! What an integral, nay intimate part of our lives! And what courage! On his last day Clancy bounded up the steep pathway across the street – the one that has me exhausted just walking up – ran down the steep bank to the creek and looked back up at Wendy with that wonderful cocked head look, then limped back to the pad, lay down in agony and moaned. We took him to the vet and he died in our arms.

On one of the evenings that followed, as we were having our nightcap and mourning our loss, I picked up a book of poetry and came upon this …

REST IN PEACE

Father, in Thy starry tent

I kneel, a humble suppliant …

A dog has died today on earth,

Of little worth

Yet very dear.

Gather him in Thine arms

If only

For awhile.

I fear he will be lonely …

Shield him with Thy smile.

- Dr Wilfred J. Funk

We wept unashamedly and did so again and again in the evenings to come as our grieving hearts thought of Clancy, who would normally be sitting in front of Wendy, staring into her glass of Highland Park on the rocks, waiting, not terribly patiently, to be given the neatly stained ice cubes.

(To those who have never loved and mourned a dog like this, I apologize for dragging you this far.)

On Christmas Eve we came back from afternoon church service and an early dinner and sat down to listen to Christmas music. Wendy suggested that we each open one present.

I should have known something was up – indeed I did know something was up when this huge rectangular, thin object, all Christmas wrapped was handed me.

There it was – a beautifully framed and matted collage. In the top left corner were Wendy and me; below that was me casting a fly line; next to that was me sitting on a log with the ever smiling Clancy at my side; there in the top right corner was himself – Duke Clancy of Deveron … wide grin … our wonderful friend and family member.

This was not an ordinary Christmas – a couple of books, a compact disc or two, trying to remember your kids’ Christmases 40 years ago. No … this was a very, extra special sort of Christmas.