We lost a good one last Sunday at Melleray Farmstead, the cottage industrial home of Piedmont Pine Coffins.
Ringo — our great Great Pyrenees — got a foot caught in the fence as in a trapper’s snare. A crappy way for a noble one to go out, and not the good death I’d always imagined for her.
Ringo Star, the Pyr with the ring on her tail and the stars in her eyes that the vet had explained as a protein malformation. Livestock guardian dog at Melleray Farmstead, 2008-2015. In 7 years of day and night service she never lost a lamb to a coyote and barked back countless predators of foot and wing.
In case you’re curious, we didn’t make her a pet casket. No, she went straight in.
May she bless our work from beyond as we heap a Homeric high mound in her honor. Dust to dust, Ringo. We are the same in this respect: my death is there, or there — who can say? — waiting for me at a moment I know not. That makes us equal.