Today I had to say goodbye to my dog, Lakshmi. I’m not one for sentimental monologues–in fact I’m patently bad at them. I’m obligated, however, to at least a few words, as so many people absolutely adored Lakshmi. I was reminded of this just recently when I was in Portland, Maine, for the Food Bender. I lived in Portland for three years and anyone who knew me while I was there also knew Lakshmi–we went absolutely everywhere together. As I was walking down the street a few weeks ago, I thought I recognized someone walking toward me, and as she slowed down with a puzzled look on her face, it was clear she thought she recognized me as well. She said, tenatively, “Lakshmi’s dad, right?”
Lakshmi’s dad indeed. And this happened three times over the five days I was in Maine last month, a full nine years after I left Portland.
Granted, this phenomenon is common among dog owners. But some of these people would also just stop by sometimes–not to see me–but to walk my dog. And this has happened everywhere I’ve lived (except now in the burbs). There were a handful of people who actually couldn’t wait for me to travel somewhere by plane because if I couldn’t drive there, Lakshmi didn’t come with me and would need someone to care for her at home. People who hate dogs have professed love for Lakshmi, and she did her fair share of recruiting dog owners-to-be.
We really did go everywhere together. She crossed the continent with me at least 4 times and went on every single one of my epic two-lane highway roadtrips. I gather that over her fourteen-year lifespan she probably logged 150,000 miles. She slept in the car and in tents with me most of those trips and for a couple of months, we even lived out of my car, graduate student office, and a few Santa Cruz laundromats and cafes due to a pathetic housing situation. We traveled to glaciers and through deserts, to the center of North America, and the Center of the Earth (she’s got an official, signed certificate of her own for the that last one). She rode the subway in NYC as I had to get her uptown somehow and I had to pretend like I was blind to get her past the ticket booth. She backpacked with me all over the U.S. and Canada and has gone swimming in both the Atlantic and the Pacific. She’s growled at moose, beavers, raccoons, bears, buffalo, bison, whales, fish, and hippies. And she ran. Boy, did she run.
Last September she had a buildup of fluid around her heart which almost killed her. When she made a completely unexpected recovery (she had lost about 1/3rd of her weight and there was a very high likelihood of the fluid buildup returning), the vet christened her “Miracle Dog”. Though she was as sweet as she had always been since that incident, she was noticeably older and more tired. Today I noticed that her back leg had swollen and brought her into the vet thinking she had sprained it or something. Unfortunately, an ultrasound revealed that the fluid was back in her chest and the swollen leg was probably related somehow to the root condition. And I really didn’t want to put her once again through the medical treatment which a few months earlier saved her life but seemed to take her spirit.
I’ll admit, regrettably, that in the last few years, the business of life with Ray has made us interact with the dogs more as furniture than as pets and as such, Lakshmi didn’t get the kind of opportunities she’s had in the past to run back and forth at light speed on a beach. But she seemed to understand her new role. When Ray was a baby, she’d sometimes lick his face while he was crying. And she was so patient with him as he grew from a helpless larvae in a bouncy chair to a kid who liked to make loud noises, pull tails and stroke her head with more vigor than he should have.
As she went to sleep for the last time today, I probably also stroked her head with more vigor than I should have as memories of all the crazy adventures we had together came to mind. It was a lot harder than I had thought it was going to be. But she had a great run of fourteen years and played such a significant role in making my last fourteen years as memorable as they have been. So yeah, I’m extremely sad. But also extremely grateful.
Here’s a photographic tribute to Lakshmi.
If I can, I plan on taking her ashes to the family farm in Illinois and burying them there in a box I’ll make myself, by hand, with as much love, compassion, and devotion that she showed me all those years. If you knew Lakshmi and have a few words to say in tribute, do leave a comment below. I’ll print out this entry and put it in the box with her ashes.
When Narayan & I met, we exchanged numbers, but his slip of paper had all his pets, too: Lakshmi included. They were members of his family; this was many years ago, before he became a husband & father. One didn’t just get a friendship with the human, the cats & amazing dog were part of the deal.
I was scared of dogs, always had been. Lakshmi was a bit enthusiastic the first meeting, but I must have passed the smell test. I couldn’t believe it…I liked a dog?? I loved her intelligence, her playfulness, her sweet face. I loved petting her, that rug of dense fur. I think she sensed I was a recent convert, and went easy with me.
I recall wondering at how she would follow a human conversation, look from one person to the other, watching us talk, ears pricking up in the most heartbreakingly adorable way. Strangely – or maybe not – I thought of her yesterday, the day she passed, about that ability to be in a conversation. I haven’t seen her in over a decade, and she’s a part of my life, I still think of her.
I am never ever going to forget beautiful, wonderful Lakshmi. Bless her soul, she was a damn good dog. I’m grateful I got to spend some time with her & learn that some dogs will indeed go to heaven.
Much love,
Jenny in Portland
You once told me of the day you went to pick her up at the shelter, Narayan. The guy there told you he had an “ugly” dog somewhere in a cage. That’s the one you chose. You then gave her the name of the indian godess of beauty, Lakshmi.
I’m very sad to hear she’s dead. I have at home the same picture you put on your page, the two of you going backpacking. I remember her going crazy, running everywhere in your Portland appartment when she was happy. A great, special dog. You were lucky to have each other.
Your words, Narayan, my memories of Lakshmi, and the beautiful pictures, have brought tears to my eyes.
Here is something else that brings tears to my eyes and I want to quote it, because it applies to noble Lakshmi. It’s the Epitaph to a Dog, long-attributed to Lord Byron, but in fact by his friend John Hobhouse.
EPITAPH TO A DOG
Near this Spot
are deposited the Remains of one
who possessed Beauty without Vanity,
Strength without Insolence,
Courage without Ferocity,
and all the virtues of Man without his Vices.
This praise, which would be unmeaning Flattery
if inscribed over human Ashes,
is but a just tribute to the Memory of
LAKSHMI, a DOG
Rest in peace, Lakshmi, you good dog, you.
Dear Lakshmi,
When I moved to Santa Cruz, I felt very far away from my family, my own pup, Timber, and my friends. When I met Narayan in graduate school, I started to have faith that maybe I’d finally found a good friend in this coastal California town. When I met you, I knew Narayan would be a dear friend: how could I resist coming over to see you (and to eat Narayan’s incredible food)? You came right up to me, stationed your skinny, athletic body next to my leg, and as I started to pet you, you gazed and me with the smartest most knowing dog eyes I’m likely ever to encounter. It was like I’d been accepted into the kingdom of Lakshmi and Narayan. It was like grace.
Here’s what I’ll remember most about you: your gracefulness. Anyone who knew you knew that you were the most graceful dog – running, trotting, walking, lounging, watching.
And maybe you’re a reminder that grace is all we can hope for. Nobody deserves a dog like you—it was by grace that Narayan found you and by grace that I got to meet you. And it’s by grace that I get to remember you.
Love,
Kelly
Lakshmi, the news of your death brings back to me a vivid memory of the first time I met you, with your red bandana, in front of Cali Brothers feed store. I was struck then by how beautiful and friendly you were, with your slightly droopy left ear and slim lithe body. As I got to know you over the years the perfection of your name grew on me, as you were so beautiful both in body and spirit. And I was especially pleased to learn than “bandana” too is an Indian word (Hindi & Urdu for tie-dyeing)! You were a very lucky dog to have Narayan as your human companion for 14 happy years, and I think you knew it. Who could have appreciated you more, or have given you so many good times and adventures? It’s comforting to know that your final resting place will be on the beautiful family farm in Illinois. I’ll think of you there.
I can’t believe how easily I was brought to tears reading your words, Narayan, and I am sending a great big hug your way and a wink skyward to Lakshmi (or Lunchmeat as we affectionately called her). I will always remember the 6 months tucked up in the attic office of Words & Images, where part of my job was to babysit the best dog in the whole world. She would often sneak out of the office and I would find her running a rampage through the student senate office on the 2nd floor, bouncing off couches and running under desks, bringing a much needed break of laughter for everyone.
She lived a wonderful life and I am sure she relished her new role as a play-toy and babysitter. 14 years is a good long run, and she was indeed, the Miracle Dog – not just for her ability to comeback and survive, but for all the smiles she brought to so many faces.
Again, sending you and your family a hug,
Samantha
Dear Lakshmi,
I will always remember my trips up to visit you and Narayan in Portland, your enthusiastic greetings and consoling cuddles. I remember that you outran all the other dogs when we went to the parks or to the beach. And how we used to lose sight of you in the prairie at the farm, catching occasional glimpses of your amazing leaps over the tall grass like a dolphin breaching the waves of the ocean. Thank you for being a loyal companion to my brother all these years, all those miles. And for being so patient and gentle with my nephew. Love, Dahlia
Lakshmi, it is sad to know you won’t be there next time I come to visit your home.
Just by looking at the photos, You lived a full life. Visited more places then most people will visit in their life time and had a family who shared unconditional love with you.
I’m glad I had a chance to hug you few days, apparently a good bye hug. Have a great run in the sky.
Lakshmi: I have very fond memories of you. Soon after I moved to Maine I met Narayan, who seemed to travel everywhere with you. I discovered that you two lived about a block away from my apartment in Portland. So for a brief time I got to know you both. I’m not sure which of you was more hip. You both were snappy dressers here in Maine, a place not known for hipsters or snappy dressers. Your bandana was always especially chic. You were full of life then and from what I understand you continued to thrive for many years. I’m glad I had a chance to spend time with you here in Maine. The walks on the Eastern Prom were especially memorable, but the trips to Reds for ice cream during the heat of the summer stand out as well.
Farewell, Lakhsmi.
Ben
After reading this, I was compelled to find my wife and hug her. I took my dog Winnie for a run down by the river, and despite her being a constant tumbling hairy stinky catastrophe I am thankful for her.
I didn’t get to know Lakshmi very well, but I was lucky to have the chance to see her just a few days ago. In minutes you can get a sense of person by meeting their dog. Dogs are a perfect reflection of who we are. Lakshmi was obviously a loving and caring dog. Devoted to her family, and welcoming to others. Sitting near her and scratching her ears, I could get a sense of the miles she had seen and the (mis)adventures she had accompanied you on.
I’m sure that Lakshmi will stay with your family as she’s helped you become the wonderful family that you are. Lakshmi – thank you for welcoming me into your home if only for a moment.
I never physically met Lakshmi, or as I called her Limpshka. But I did enjoy the many stories and photographs that it really seemed I had. I was so saddened to hear she had passed on. I really wish I had been given the opportunity to pat her lovingly on the head and have her lick my face just once.
Lakshmi lived a wonderfully abundant life, full of love, adventure and fun…. what more could a dog ask for? She will be remembered by all who knew her… big hugs to you and your family. xox
Dear Lakshmi,
We all loved you dearly. You were such an active dog and we are all so glad we got to spend just a little part of your life with us. We especially love how only one of your ears is flopped, it’s incredibly adorable.
Laura loved taking care of you and will always think of you when she dog sits. She remembers when she was walking you, you always wanted to go faster and faster but when you turned around to look for Sadie and saw she was a decent distance away, you would stop and wait for her.
We loved you and you cared for us back. Have a wonderful time in the green grass fields of doggy heaven.
We will miss you,
The McVey family
Lola Ruth will miss you !
She will always remember how you liked “adobo”….
You were kind,gentle, graceful, strong, intelligent and a good companion to
Narayan.
Rest in peace, my great grand dog.
Till then,
Lola Ruth
Dear Lakshmi,
You were unquestionably the single most beautiful dog I have ever seen. Every time I was in your presence I found your beauty, elegance, and sweetness just enchanting. Narayan was blessed to have spent fourteen years with you, as you were blessed to have him as your human companion.
Perhaps you and our beloved Emma can touch noses.
love
MK
It seems strange to say goodbye to you, Lakshmi. I feel your absence around the house every day – only one set of paws at the door, only one bowl to fill at night. I miss you. Sadie misses you too, I can tell – she keeps wandering around the house as though she is looking for someone.
You were a good dog, and you took good care of all of us, especially my guys. I can’t really believe you are gone. I’m glad we got the time together that we did, and that I was lucky enough to know you in your wiggly, bouncy, rioting-with-Clare all-over-the-house days as well as in your more staid recent years. I’m glad you had these extra nine months with us, and I’m glad you’re not suffering now. Rest in peace, and we’ll see you when we get there.
With much love,
Nara
I had physically met Laksmi just once but i did enjoy your photographs and stories from the other side of the globe.
You will definitely be remembered by many fond memories that will always remain preserved with everyone who knew you.
May your soul rest in peace…
Rakesh
So sorry to hear… I know what its like to say good-bye to a loyal friend like that, as I’ve recently done the same with the passing of my cat Loki… My thoughts are with you.
Dearest Lakshmi, You brought great joy to a group of very troubled, hurting boys where I worked. The children always wanted to sleep with you and you followed many of them to their rooms. What comfort you gave! And how I loved our walks! You were the fastest dog at the cemetery and loved to coax other dogs to chase you. That was until a trio of Greyhounds surrounded you, nipping at your ankles and I had to lift you out of your predicament.