We went to pick up Frieda’s ashes today at the vet, they came in a plastic bag inside of this tin container. We put her next to Lenore’s ashes. Our plan was to take Frieda out into the woods and leave her for the other wild creatures of the forest, that would have been appropriate for her, but there was too  much snow and the ground was too hard. We will scatter the ashes wherever Maria thinks appropriate.

Frieda has been gone for nearly two weeks now. She was a large presence in our home and family for many years. We lost Simon and Lenore before her, which was a surprise. Frieda seemed the weakest and most likely to go next, but life has it’s own plans. I wrote six books about the three of them at different times,  there are some large holes around here.

Frieda was Maria’s companion and protector for some time, I think it is especially  disorienting to Maria not to have her around. For the first time in her artistic life, she does not have a dog dozing with her in her studio. That will change, but it might take awhile. We are both determined to be thoughtful about the dog that replaces Frieda, there is no rush.

There are lots of good ways to get a dog, but the most important way, I think, is thoughtfully, not impulsively or emotionally. Frieda is not the kind of dog that can be replaced. She was a wild creature, and she came into Maria’s life when she needed a pal and a protector. Frieda was both.

Maria is different now – we both are – and our needs and feelings change. Frieda was a great dog, but a hard dog in many ways, she was a ferocious hunter and roamer and wanderer, she had to be watched closely, it was a miracle she lived as long as she did.

We miss Frieda’s presence in our home and in our lives – she often guarded my study and gave me a feeling of privacy and security. After a couple of tumultuous years we became close, good pals to one another. We are looking ahead to filling some of the holes that have arisen on the farm. There is talk of a small horse, of another dog.

But we are excited about the future.  Loss is the first cousin of gain and change.

This morning, Maria and I were joking about something, and she muttered “oh, you can be so annoying sometimes,” and she grabbed the ashes off of the mantel in the living room and headed towards her studio.

“C’mon Frieda,” she said as the door closed behind her.