Everyone knows I love dogs. I yearned to have a dog as long as I can remember, but didn’t have one until I was 35 or so. I have had at least 20 dogs since I first got Truffleupagus in 1987? 1988? After Molly came to live with Truffle and us, I knew dogs need dog pals, so I never have just ONE dog. Happy times in my hiking life sometimes involved a pack of six dogs running free across the landscape. I’ve rescued and fostered dogs then found homes for them, too. Many of my dogs have been outstanding friends and I’ve loved them dearly, but Molly was, as many humans noted, “More than a dog.”
She was a malamute/Aussie mix meaning she was a fairly large hairy dog with no tail. Just a flap. She never had a tail. I got her at a swap meet. She was 8 weeks old. We went hiking immediately. It was too much for her, but it set the scene for the rest of our lives together.
We hiked and hiked and hiked and she caught rabbits, ran with away with coyotes (and came back). She had a wild heart and a sweet nature, though she did once jump for my brother’s throat (message in there somewhere?).
What made us soul mates? I don’t know.
But after Molly died, a few of my other dogs became soul mates, too. Lupo, Cody, Ariel (though, admittedly, her soul was a little disturbed) and Lily. Why? I don’t know.
Does it mean anything that my soul mates have mostly been animals? One was a horse. I have had — and have — many beloved human friends, but the level of communication is just not the same. Sometimes I feel that with people I have to translate everything into words. With soul mates, I can just — could just — hit a trail in joy and silence and share the experience completely.