Karl (louderback) wrote in louderprose,
Karl
louderback
louderprose

Compulsion - Meditation - Eulogy - For Nickki

Compulsion — Meditation — Eulogy

          I am at once drawn to and simultaneously pressed away from my current train of thought. I must write, but it fills me with a terrible guilt as well. I feel a bit silly writing down my meditations on my sister's pet. They form a eulogy of sorts. Who writes a eulogy for a dog? I do. I feel terrible publishing this. I wrote a eulogy for my mother and it never got published. Well, the paper edited it to about three lines. It is barely possible that more people will see this than saw what I wrote about my mother. What does that really say? Why does it make me feel so bad? Why do I persist in writing this even so?

          I did not know Nickki in her youth. She was as much an outdoor as an indoor dog in those days. She soon came indoors, however. A legendary confrontation with a
enormous
chow
three times her size may have decided that, I am not sure. Nickki cowed the chow. She earned thereby a fierce reputation that she lived up to for fifteen years.
Princess Nickki
Princess Nickki
          "Her days as an inside dog were a bit less fraught with danger. She had the run of the house (including the kitchen) and frequent access to table scraps. The right to enter the kitchen was one she never ceded despite attempts to keep her out. Her companion of her later years Jirel was trained never to enter the kitchen. Nickki regarded this, I think with a bit of disdain.
          For a time, Nickki spent a great deal of time with my parents. My mother indulged her tremendously. My father did too, but he did so surreptitiously. It was among them that she really learned her "notorious" behavior. I really knew Nickki only in her later years. She had already attained her status as "Princess Nickki". That is what she was, not a ruling Queen, not enough dignity for that. No, she was more the imperious Princess who would have her way. A diva, a drama queen, a master thespian was she. She always got her way. She was definitely the dominant dog in the house. Maybe the dominant personality, period, humans included. Jirel a good three times her size and weight was buffaloed at the first meeting and stayed out her way to the very end. Despite imperious tendencies, Nickki was a loving pet. She seldom cuddled, but she was eager for a good ear-scratch, a chin-scritch, or the hours-long belly-rub. Her servants were glad to do this. She spent many an hour perched on the love seat (her private domain) surveying her domain, her legs crossed in front of her as a suitable rest for her chin. In her latter days, those of 20 hour naps and snoring, twitchy dreams of chasing rabbits (no doubt), she remained ever the imperious ruler of the household.
We are diminished by her absence, the kingdom lacks its Princess. I miss her every day, the sadness I feel inexpressible. Nickki came to my sister Janet after the death of her husband Roger. I feel in many ways, Nickki's fifteen years with her maintained a link to Roger. With that now severed I cannot imagine my sister's feelings.
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