Carrie Fisher, 1956-2016

The year 2016 really seems to be on a murder spree. I don't think I have ever written specifically about any celebrity deaths, but this one's a bit different. Of course, like many fans, I know Ms. Fisher mainly from her work as the take-no-prisoners Princess / Senator / General Leia Organa. No wilting wall flower, this damsel turned tropes on their heads as she fought alongside her more traditionally male protagonists.

Ms. Fisher was no different, using wit and talent to turn her personal struggles into bestsellers, even as she continued to steal scenes throughout the 1980s and '90s. She was a powerful presence in and out of the spotlight, renowned as a script doctor, and as an advocate for mental issues.

On a more personal note, my lovely bride and I, geeks that we are, identify with the Star Wars power couple, Han and Leia; who, when declaring their love for one another, each responded to the other matter-of-factly.

Carrie, we love you. But I'm sure you know.

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This article from I Have Touched the Sky is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-ShareAlike 4.0 International License. If you repost part or all of the work (for non-commercial purposes), please cite me as the author and include a link back to the blog.

Scooter proofreads almost all my articles before I post them, for which I am very grateful. However, any mistakes are mine and mine alone (unless otherwise noted). If you are reading this post through RSS or Atom feed—especially more than a couple hours after publication—I encourage you to visit the actual page, as I often make refinements after the fact. The mobile version also loses some of the original character of the piece due to simplified formatting.

And Then There Were Five . . .

I did not expect to have such a long break between posts. It's been a momentous couple of months, what with the unexpected election results, the breakdown of my gaming computer, and finally the loss of a family member this weekend.

Our Pack at Its Peak

This is from a couple years ago, before he lost weight.

Thank you to all who expressed condolences for the loss of our sweet old dachshund Dexter. He had developed congestive heart failure, which became acute over the last week. We took him to the vet on Saturday. Sadly, while he could have been treated temporarily, his prognosis even in the short term was not good at all. So Scooter and I made the decision to be with him in his final moments and say goodbye together, rather than risk him passing away while we were at work, struggling to breathe, essentially alone.

I thought I had prepared for this, especially after we lost Zane so unexpectedly. But that didn't make Dexter's passing any easier. There's an empty space at the foot of the bed where he belongs, softly snoozing under a blanket or obsessively licking his forepaws. And there's an empty space in our hearts, where Dexter has left his paw prints on his way across the bridge to play with Zane and Ginger and Didi, his mate.

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This article from I Have Touched the Sky is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-ShareAlike 4.0 International License. If you repost part or all of the work (for non-commercial purposes), please cite me as the author and include a link back to the blog.

Scooter proofreads almost all my articles before I post them, for which I am very grateful. However, any mistakes are mine and mine alone (unless otherwise noted). If you are reading this post through RSS or Atom feed—especially more than a couple hours after publication—I encourage you to visit the actual page, as I often make refinements after the fact. The mobile version also loses some of the original character of the piece due to simplified formatting.

Zane the Magnificent

Blurry tail

While I usually restrict the posts on this blog to gaming related stuff, it is my main venue for other things I want to put out there. Slice-of-Rowan's-Life posts. This one is tragic, so if you want to skip it, I understand. Thank you to everyone on Facebook and Twitter who posted condolences. I have read every one, but don't have the heart to respond to all of them individually.

His first portrait, at the shelter

In May of 2011 (not a prolific time on the blog), I personally shopped for a dog for the first time ever in my almost 40 years. The house had been broken into a couple times, and my teenage daughter was not feeling safe, so we decided to get a canine companion. Up to that point in my life, I would say I was tolerant of animals, but I'd never really gotten attached to any.

Always happy

After encountering a complicated adoption process at the local no-kill shelter, we decided to check out the city pound, where we met a beautiful Queensland Heeler "mix" (I think he may have been a purebred). In a kennel with a rambunctious Lab, we saw this unflappable dog with eyes of two different colors. We decided he was perfect, naming him "Zane" after the main character in Piers Anthony's On a Pale Horse, a favorite of both my daughter and me.

Workin' on his tan

I didn't realize how lucky we were. Zane was just about the most well-behaved dog I know, able to learn quickly and responsive to commands. Despite his initial calm (a result of nervousness we think), he was full of energy, loving to be outside, playing and sunning himself. Often when he slept, he would twitch and make funny barking noises. We'd joke that he was chasing bunnies in his dreams.

Being a cattle dog, he was ever watchful of his herd, as it continued to grow from just my daughter and me to include my new bride and her daughter, their two dogs, the two dogs we took in from a coworker who was moving, and finally a stray Scooter rescued, gravid with two pups.

Zane's pack of precious

True to his compassionate namesake, Zane formed a special bond with Bella and her puppy, perhaps sensing they needed more protection than the others. Lucy and Zane were inseparable.

Sweet Lucy

loves her Unca Zane

Over the past few days, Zane had seemed out of sorts. He'd vomited a couple times, and was listless. He'd had bouts like this before, but had recovered. We figured something he'd eaten had disagreed with him. Then yesterday morning, he refused to eat, and soiled himself and his blankets during the day. By 4 o'clock, Scooter was concerned enough to call me at work to say we needed to go to the vet. Our local vet, suspecting a possible rat poisoning, directed us to a pet hospital about an hour away, where they discovered an autoimmune condition had destroyed virtually all of his platelets. He had lost a lot of blood through his digestive tract and probably elsewhere, leaving him weak and severely anemic. We had to make the decision to end his suffering. Scooter and I bawled, feeling like we'd lost a child—and guilty that we couldn't do more for him. My daughters were inconsolable.

DoubleUnder said on Twitter that "Dogs are so wonderful." Zane was the one who taught me the truth of that. He was precious to me. Before Zane, I was not a dog person. Now I have a pack of them.

The house feels empty now, even with the rest of the pack intact. Our other dogs seem to be searching for Zane. Though they may have picked up on his illness long before we did, none of them really understand where he's gone. I'm not sure I really understand either. Or why he had to go, especially so young. I'd like to think he has joined our tiny Ivory, chasing bunnies in open fields. . .

One of my favorite pictures: Zane on the move