my annual late summer ritual

I have a ritual that I perform every August 26. It began four years ago on the day I had to put down my sweet old dog Wilson. Earlier that week I had the staggering realization that the time had come for her life to end. On the 25th I called our vet in Taos and, choking my words, made the appointment for Thursday afternoon, August 26th. The question then became how the hell to spend that morning leading up to our appointment.

I don’t know how the idea came to me but before first light on Thursday morning I transformed the back of my car into a huge bed of pillows and flannel and fleece. I then lifted my old girl into the back, and off we rode. For hours we drove all over Northern New Mexico, visiting our favorite haunts: Across the Rio Grande… Up to the aspens high above Taos… On up around to Red River, over Bobcat Pass and down through the Moreno Valley… Often I just pulled over in a shady spot to lie beside my pup in our makeshift bed and breathe in her scent. Come afternoon we drove up and over Palo Flechado Pass, then down down down through Taos Canyon past the home where she and I shared the first years of our life together.

Later that day she died cradled in my arms in the back of our car.

When I returned that night to our empty home I had driven some 300 miles.

A year later on August 26th I decided to make the drive again. This time I took my camera. My phone remained turned off, locked away in the glove compartment of my car. The day was beautiful – as it so often is this time of year.
I drove and drove and drove, lost in memories and the beauty of the late summer New Mexico landscape.

A year later I did it again.

And this year, yet again….

Three years out and the day rarely involves tears anymore. Rather than being about mourning my sweet old dog, my annual August 26th “Wilson Tribute Drive” has become more about simply taking a day to immerse myself in the beauty of Northern New Mexico and to reflect. Reflect on death and life and family and friendship. On memories and regrets and hopes and plans. Though this drive for me is rooted in sadness, with each passing year it evolves a little bit more into a day of joy. Three years ago I couldn’t have imagined the 26th of August would become one of my favorite days of the year.

Maybe one of these years when I make my annual ritual drive, I’ll have a new pup to accompany me in paying tribute to the land and sky and life and love.

And to, of course, my Sweet Wilson.

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