Santa Fe Scoop

 Yes, the winds of change are gently blowing - they tell me it is time to lay to rest that which is past and walk through some open doors yet to be seen.  It is time to say goodbye to Wiyaka’ska. Sade and I took a short walk and finally I could set Wiyaka’ska free. I had to listen deep inside, for blaming anything in life depletes our energy and we are lost for not accepting our own authentic lives.

I have come to a place of contentment and peace with the coyote of June 15th,.   Late that evening the coyote had good meal that night. It is good they control the mice – rodent and feral cats, this does ensure a balance in our nature of life.

As I walked the tears finally came. “Wiyaka’ska you are missed” I said and continued. “we miss you in our family, Sammie really misses you but he has come to accept our family is smaller. Wiya, your sweet presences, your constant playfulness, running around bouncing on furniture and the fact that Sammie who is 14 years old played with you all the time was wondrous. Your soft gentle spirit and snow white fur with the most magnificent Turquoise eyes that bled off to pearl – those eyes I never will gaze into again; they are missed.

I miss kissing your soft cheeks and when you immediately began to play and scamper under the bed, I would pull your tail to grab you from under the furniture and place the harness and long lead on you to keep you from jumping the fence. It all is missed.

We miss seeing you curled up under the bed and on the back portal wicker chair, where you blended into the white foam cushion. You are missed; the very presence of you is missed.

In the morning you would jump on the dresser to athletically jump to the high awning window while crouching, watching the birds. I miss barely opening my eyes as you woke me each morning performing this act – then dozing off to sleep, knowing in a hour it was time to rise. Then you would come to rest, curled into my body somewhere on the bed. You knew when I was ready to wake for the day, for you came up on my little tummy and kneaded the sheets so softly. You purred and then would closer, onto my shoulder or cheek to softly kiss me awake, I could hear you purr. Sometimes you drooled a bit, but your sweet face with the most wondrous eyes – all filled with life by passed that tiny drop of moisture.   

Wiyaka’ska, you could leap up eight feet without a second of hesitancy. Your body was graced as an athlete. And when you sat facing myself or friends, everyone smiled with a remark of how beautiful and elegant you were, with a whisper of flirtation; you carried these qualities of decorum well throughout the years.

We had seven years with you, saved from certain death; you had seven years of life. You sat quietly as we traveled in the car to the vet for the first time when you were about two months old and you sat quietly when we drove from Colorado to New Mexico. You sat quietly when we had to move so much from place to place here in NM, and particularly when we stayed at the Community farm, you knew the farm and you came back inside avoiding the coyotes.

 I saw something change in your face, a furrowed brow in the last month of so. Often I would pick up your face to look at you only to be beguiled and concerns dashed away when seeing those exquisite eyes. Yes, you knew life was coming to an end and yet you needed to live life as you saw it, jumping the fence – chasing the mice and rats just the other side of the line. We found a temporary stop to live where the wilderness lives abundantly – this triggered the mammalian nature within your feral beginnings. That furrowed brow told my instincts what I did not wish to hear. It was not pronounced in your sweet face. Nonetheless I saw the lines in your silent slumber. I knew and I tried to protect you from the fate that was to come.

I knew that last week you were in danger. That last Saturday night, I knew you were in danger. I held you in my arms about 8:00PM and gazed for the last time into your beautiful iridescent turquoise eyes and said, “I don’t want you to be the coyotes’ meal. I want to keep you as part of my little family. I have to protect you this is why I put this harness on you with a long yellow tie. Now please stay in this evening. The coyotes are hungry, it is their breeding season.”

This was the last time I saw you. I heard you get beyond the barrier I built to allow air to flow in from the portal and cool this little casita off. I heard you, but did not see you. There were no signs of you leaving, only a moments noise.

Then you became a quick coyotes’ meal. That coyote was well fed; you offered your life, not intentionally. Nonetheless, you gave your life back to nature. I have no regret. Instead some tears and a huge feeling that “I miss you and accept you are now gone.” The tears finally blur my eyes and run down my cheeks with acceptance of life.

And once again learning, it is not to blame -  life will continue its’ course whether we appreciate that moment or not, life is going to always happen - this is the course of life; when we lose something – something else in life gains. And that coyote did just that this night. This does not mean our hearts are not to feel loss or pain, we do. But acceptance of life as it is, and continuing on - creating - living - loving and understanding with joy would be much easier than not to remember the joy,  you Wiyaka'ska, brought to our little family.  I love you and miss you - goodbye!

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