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Storm (a poem by Stardust--April 5, 2011)
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Storm (a poem by Stardust--April 5, 2011) STORM (a story poem by Stardust, April 5, 2011) Jeez I must be I'm getting a little more weird then normal.... When I see that old guy limping, it's as if he's part of my body, and I can feel the pain in his leg... In that joint of his leg that hurts him now because of me... I took in the Pit Bull that injured him a couple of years ago. That loved me too. "Storm,"was that dog's name, and he was aptly named. Perfectly named-- Unless the Pit had been called Tornado! But The White Ghost and I had a relationship going back from the time Ghost had come to me as a lost puppy. strong and vibrant, looking for a long drink of water, and a safe home. I thought after a few months that the Pit and Ghost had made friends. But if I'd been honest with myself, I would have seen the looks Storm gave Ghost anytime I'd petted Ghost and gave Ghost affection. It happened suddenly on the open desert. while I was only 100 yards from the Ghost. Storm attacked Ghost with a fury that must have been building during the months Storm had lived with us. Ghost was twice the size of Storm, but no I've ever seen can stop the attack of a purebred Pit Bull who's been trained to fight and kill. Ghost was already down and Storm had Ghost by the throat when I picked up a weathered 2 by 4 that lay by my feet in the sand, and hit Storm across the muscular back and shoulders. I loved THAT too. Storm could have attacked me, but as I grabbed Storm's shoulders one in each hand he looked into my face I didn't yell at Storm, just said calmly, "Stop, Storm, Stop.!" Storm struggled in my grip for a few minutes, breathing hard with the blood lust, and I held him by the shoulders as hard as I could until he settled, and finally relaxed. "Can you get up and walk old guy?" I asked Ghost. I stood between Ghost and Storm, as Ghost struggled to his feet and shook himself. but Storm didn't try to get Ghost again... We walked calmly, slowly, home. When we got home I brought Ghost and my female Dingo inside, and cleaned and loaded the old Smith and Wesson .38. then went back out to Storm. Storm and I walked down into the middle of our property. It was dark now. and I had the revolver in the middle of my back under the belt. Storm and I sat close together on the sand. I put my arm around him the way he liked me to. I talked to Storm softly Telling him why I was going to have to put him down. I told him I didn't blame him for the other dogs he'd killed. I knew it was only the way God had made him. Storm licked my face and tasted the salt in my tears. As I stood, Storm continued looking out over the dark desert, A country I knew he loved as much as me. "Come back to me as a gentle shepard dog," I whispered to Storm, and fired the .38 into the top of Storm's head, the way the old vet in 29 Palms had shown me to do,years ago. I buried Storm before dawn. I'm still waiting for him to come back to me gentled....   |
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I remember your post about Storm. It took love to do what you had to do. You and Storm w  ill meet again at the Rainbow Bridge.I printed out that particular story about Storm, and have it here in a stack of printed manuscripts about 3 inches high. That dog haunts me more than any other animal I've ever had. He was a unique dog, and it hurts me terribly that he was in the prime of his life when I had to put him down. Thank you for the poem "The Rainbow Bridge", you sent me, Maddy, I'm pretty sure that poem is also in that large stack printed material.
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I remember your post about Storm. It took love to do what you had to do. You and Storm will meet again at the Rainbow Bridge. "Don't cry because it's over; smile because it happened." 
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You're just getting started on this site, Geneva. I sense you have many pearls of wisdom to grant us all, and I hope any shyness you have will be gone in a few more of your wonderful posts and you'll really give it all to us.
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This is the love we talked about a few days ago my friend. You talked of the love for Ghost Dog, but there is a love for storm there too. Life gives us hard choices to make. But make them we must. Bob Imogene and Marisol knew each other, and were friends. Marisol would'nt even speak to me until Imogene was in the hospital in Golden Valley, Arizona, and dying of colon cancer. Soon after, we became lovers.
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A tragedy that happens sometimes out here is the death of a person living alone in one of the unpopulated areas of the desert with animals living with the person. If it happens during July or August when the everyday temp climbs to at least 105 and usually much higher than that, the poor animals die from lack of water, unless there's some running water provision for them.. Another problem is older people living on very limited incomes, (poverty is endemic on the desert), who love animals and try to take care of them, but don't have the money to feed them. Good and healthy dog food costs more than most people without animals realize. I cherish you Charmaine, for your work with the dogs in your country. The pictures you take of them are beautiful. I'm sure I'll find another puppy soon. I feel it intuitively.
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This is the love we talked about a few days ago my friend. You talked of the love for Ghost Dog, but there is a love for storm there too. Life gives us hard choices to make. But make them we must. Bob Peace is my sister. wgf And please...the name is Bob...not clit.  watch [blog clitlick4you]
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I wrote a long post about Storm last summer prior to my leaving this site, and printed it out so I have it here in a stack of printed stuff I'll probably never go through. (You know how that is -- too many other things to do). Marisol met Storm and was afraid of him, as were most other people. For some reason Storm adored me, and kept getting in my fenced compound and waiting for me in the early morning to come outside, then he would greet me by turning on his back giving me his belly and throat. Finally his owner who was also afraid of him and was going to take him to the pound in 29 where Storm would have been killed the same day he arrived. asked me to take Storm and I did. I suddenly thought of Storm very strongly early this afternoon and wrote that rapid story poem about him, and of course cried over him... I keep second guessing myself about him. Did I really have to put him down? At the time I was sure I had to, because I couldn't trust him any longer, and when I saw his power and quickness, the way he went after WGD, I became afraid of him too. But Jesus F. C. I miss his vitality and his total worship of me, and his great beauty as an athlete. White Ghost Dog of course always knows when I talk of Storm. He knows the name " Storm, " and remembers how I saved the Ghost's life. But here again I'm assuming Storm would have killed White. When Storm beat up my dingo, he didn't kill her. She was absolutely in agony from bruising for a month, and could barely move for a week, but when she completely healed she was totally in love with Storm and followed his every move. She was depressed for months after I put him down... Yes I love dogs. I love most every animal I've ever had a chance to get to know.... My place is a dog's heaven. My dogs have seldom if ever even had to wear a collar here. There are holes under the fence in places where they could get out of the compound but they never want to leave. You know we believe in reincarnation. Perhaps my very strong feeling about Storm is a precursor to his returning as a large gentle dog. I would love that. And the two old dogs I have now, would love to raise a puppy who would grow into a large and gentle dog! Thank you for your comment Sexnic..
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