This is the iconic portrait of Opal by Maxine Bochnia taken at six months old in 2005, famous on the internet and proudly displayed at trade shows wherever she works.
Note: Although I am writing about a very sad subject in this entry of Blyss Blog Encore, it does not reflect the way I feel in the present. Upon reminiscing about Opal on the tenth anniversary of Her death, my words in quotation are reproductions of documents that described my feelings at that time.
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I must look back ten years now to remember the premature death of the borzoi puppy bitch I loved so much, Opal. I wrote Opal’s obituary shortly after Her death and posted it on BorzoiNews-L. Opal is not for public consumption therefore I am not posting this anniversary on Facebook or Twitter, but only mentioning the anniversary in my Blog. For the writing of that obituary and its publication on the BorzoiNews-List, and the first entry in my Blog one year later describing my feelings about my grief, catapulted me into creating Blyss Blog and its continuation, Blyss Blog Encore. It was very clear that my grief was still raw one year later and would fester for many years. There may be some readers who remember Opal’s obituary that I posted that day in the listserv. It follows:
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“‘And a lady always knows when to leave.”
As many of our friends know, our youngest borzoi, “Opal” at Blyss, has been ill for some time. It has been heart wrenching to see her fail to thrive, waste away, and know something was wrong but not know what. To know was worse. She fought hard to live. Sadly, she lost.
Opal will always be remembered for her beauty, sweetness and grace, and that her time with us was much too brief. I believe she had a career as a show dog in her future, although perhaps not equaled to that of her great dam. That stopped being important to us, if only she could be well. Opal was happiest when she could be at home, making everyone feel special with her unique style of affection, tapping you with her paw to get your attention, or leaning into you to be scratched behind the ears, or licking your hands and face. Still, I would be a liar if I denied regretting the loss of so many “what could have beens” for her. Truly, she was robbed. With her passing, we lose much, too: Opal’s infectious joy, the heart of our home.
Opal’s untimely departure makes me recall a wonderful line from one of my favorite movies, Fried Green Tomatoes. Ruth, a much loved main character and a beautiful young woman, dies prematurely. Her friend, Sipsy, comforts their friends with the following words:
‘It’s all right, honey. Let her go. Let her go. Miss Ruth was a lady. And a lady always knows when to leave.’
Thank you, Roni and Jennifer Zucker, for sending Opal to Blyss. We shall always be so grateful.
“Opal,” Raynbo Opalesque at Blyss
October 21, 2004 – July 7, 2006
“May we meet again, Dearest Little One.”
Lorene Connolly & Robert Dwyer, Blyss Kennels, Mountainside NJ
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One year later, no less consoled, I began the Blyss Blog with these words on July 6, 2007:
“One year has passed since I had to let Opal go. She was my best dog but She soon sickened and died…Today, I don’t understand why or how I am still here….I lost much by losing Opal. Opal meant the world to me… I tried to go to Her many times, many ways, but I failed. I still wish I could die… Nothing I feel makes any difference so there is no point in having feelings. Wishes will not bring Her back, and my wishes stand for less. I have honored and memorialized Opal with my entire being and honors and memorials can’t bring Her back. I have cried myself sick and my tears don’t bring Her back. I have sickened myself into depression and depression can’t bring Her back. I have starved myself and starvation can’t bring Her back. And I have grieved until I am out of grief and grief can’t bring Her back. She is gone.”
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Today, nine years after writing those opening words, although I no longer suffer the loss of Opal, I have not forgotten Her. Instead, I am humbled by the memory that the pain of Her death caused me. It transcended the emotional, and touched me in all aspects of my life to the point that I became physically and emotionally ill. I never thought I could be so sick, sick to the point that my life was in danger. There were other factors involved, true, but nothing has ever caused me so much pain before or since, as holding Her lifeless body in my arms.
It is still as sad today as it was then: I lost ten years of blissful happiness with Opal when I needed Her so much. By losing Her life, She lost Her chance to be my dog, when I was Her special human. Moreover, by losing Her, I knew I would be lonely forever for that special kind of special love for me that only She had. For that special love, the kind of love that Opal gave to me, was the kind of love that eluded me in all other areas of my life, not only in my three marriages but going back to the earliest years of my childhood, a time of nightmares, devoid of safety and peace that only nurtured an endless, desperate quest for love as an adult.
When Opal died, Her light died with Her. I was cast into a suffocating darkness from which I could not escape. But life is cruel, and it goes on anyway…. Today, ten years later I am here trying to show Her the respect She is due all the while becoming a different person, a recovered person from an emotional blackout that consumed me for many years that followed. I can recall Her memory now without the horrible pain in my chest that always brought on uncontrollable tears. Perhaps today, I understand fully that She never really left me, that She was here all the while, always right here by my side. Today I have the faith and the courage to look down and see Her as She looks up at me.
For Opal, I wrote prayers and I wrote poems. In particular, there is “Opal’s Prayer” and “Hounds of the Steppes”. They help me to remember she is always alive in my heart.