A Homecoming Constant

An Ode To A Corgi Named Brynn - Part I

Part II, Part III, Part III.5, & Part IV

Grief is weird. As much as I wish I could conjure up a more eloquent way of articulating the evasive fluidity of grief, this phrase is the only way I can encapsulate the past few years.

I took a break from writing this for a little over a year. They say to write from scars, rather than open wounds; and while I don’t fully inhibit this doctrine, I understand its message. As April marks the one year anniversary of Brynn’s death, I felt like enough space had passed to fully release my feelings around this piece (plus my experience in writing these personal essays can only help elevate it further).

The overall piece is quite long, so I will be releasing this in a couple parts to make it a bit digestible. Enjoy.

Around the late 2000’s, I experienced my first real heartbreak. Feeling the relationship was coming to end, a hasty decision was made to retreat, by myself, out to Bend, Oregon, a blooming vacation/tourist city in the central area of the state. At the time, Bend was home to ski bums, naturalists, and those in need of some form of escape (physically, and mentally).

The move was an angsty attempt, veiled as an opportunity, to spread my wings and escape the fortitude of Portland that I had surrounded myself with for so long. Reflecting back now, my chaotic mind concluded self-punishment was to be dealt from the collapse of the said relationship. The further I positioned myself away from ‘civilization’ - disconnecting myself from family & friends - the easier the pain management would become. 

As a close friend would come to say about my pain, I’m like an old cat who flocks to the woods to die - my grief can only be faced alone. Even now, this behavior is an axiom, though the root has been identified to some degree. 

The move felt gargantuan at the time, as if I was leaving everything behind. Though, in reality,  Portland was only a 3 hour drive away - an easy weekend getaway. There’s established romanticism in running away to a new place to start ‘fresh’, until your problems eventually catch up with you the moment the honeymoon phase is over. 

My parents' vacation home became my emotional fortress of solitude, a resting place I was quite fortunate and privileged to have had available. With the house being located outside of Bend proper, and the neighborhood vacant due to vacationing snowbirds, I was often quite alone.  Isolation was key to my self prescribed ‘success’. Due to my reclusive character, my dreams became a reality, surrounding myself in the pure solace of the resounding quiet, the crystal clear view of the night sky, and the lushness of the Deschutes river - a pinch of offerings from the natural area surrounding my new home. 

While I wish I could emulate this period to some form of transcendentalistic expression, this would simply not come to be the case. My sister often refers to this period of time as my ‘Justin Vernon’ days, though my output was slightly focused on homebrewing beer & writing about music, rather than producing gorgeous soul crushing existential sound.

From time to time, my parents would visit, accompanied by our family dogs, Pearl, a deaf, wall-eyed, Australian shepherd (due to a condition known as lethal white/double merle), and Abby, a tiny yorkie-papillon mix. As the nearby forest attracted more opportunity for off leash adventures than back in Portland, they would leave Pearl & Abby for longer stints of time. While the initial responsibility of their care was cumbersome, I came to imbibe in their company; a healthy distraction from the dangerous distress in ruminating over the past.

Reveling in the sultry density of late summer into autumn, I traversed the boundless local trails, the smell of forest fires lingering in the air. The days passed without hesitation, defined by dusty sunsets, scents of juniper trees, and a sense of freedom. Given time, though, even natural beauty cannot contend with the weight of loneliness. If anything, natural beauty exacerbates the condition, especially when faced with the cosmic theater of the universe.  

Catching me by surprise, November snuck up out of nowhere, as bleak beauty encapsulated the surrounding estate. Grass traversing sides of the river echoed anemic, the water level receding from the banks, and the sun’s light bowed out earlier; All tell-tale signs of the impending transition. The continuous cool mid-day air had announced winter was steadfast, and the ecstasy & rapture of living amongst oneself began to show signs of dilapidation. My parent’s visits would soon dwindle, and thus a ceasing of the occasional dog accompaniment which kept me company. Free from these distractions, complete recognition in isolation was now rearing, and I absolutely feared the mental state I had irresponsibly solely created.

Of course, I did what any clear minded individual in my situation would do. I adopted a dog.

Remember when Craigslist was the place for anything? Well, I scraped together a ‘Dog Wanted’ post on the Bend area Craigslist pets section, and crossed my fingers. If memory serves, my ask was quite the wide range of dog breeds, more or less the results of indulging in a few ‘What Dog Is Right For You?’ and ‘What Dog Matches Your Personality’ quizzes - completely disregarding the disposition or ability to train said dog. The specification of Australian shepherds, border collies, collies, corgis, and basset hounds were all presented in my ‘seemingly adult’ description in the posting.

Almost immediately, I was contacted by a gentleman who had a dog he was considering adopting out. Trekking to a ranch house outside Bend, I was greeted by a wild, yet endearing, border collie named Stout. The kismet was palpable - my professional brewer aspirations now entangled with the destiny of a dog named after a British beer style. The occurrence was deemed almost too perfect. Giving me the low down, Stout’s owner was a fresh father, and Stout unfortunately wasn’t vibing well with the new born. Throw in a heap of separation anxiety, and you had a somber dog owner who was at a loss. With rose colored confidence on, and a firm belief I could train a border collie, Stout and I hopped in the car back home… But not before a heartbreaking tearful goodbye from his owner.

Stout stayed with me for barely a week. A week I can only remember as filled with pure chaos and conflicted feelings. Stout’s separation anxiety was worse than expected. A month or so prior I had picked up work at an Italian deli, equating my absence a few days during the week. Originally envisioning no issues with this arrangement, given my experience with leaving our family dogs alone before, terror soon set in. As soon I departed for my shift, Stout acted as though an atrocity had been committed, howling & barking up a storm. After a few guilty days of leaving him in the mud room during my shifts, subsequently arriving home to discover chewed through towels and clawed doors, defeat was admitted. I was purely out of my element. With my tail reluctantly between my legs, I contacted Stout’s original owner, asking if I could return Stout, and he agreed.

Upon our arrival back to the ranch, Stout bolted back into his true owner’s arms. Smiles opened across their faces, and tears ran down his owner’s cheek, shielded by his sunglasses. The man truly loved this dog. He explained how deeply Stout was missed by the whole family, and believed they could train him to be around the newborn in a healthy way, given time. Even though an immense guilt from ‘ripping’ Stout away swept over me, I was happy for reuniting them (and having the pressure lifted). Still undeterred, I continued my dog hunt.

Heeding my own advice, any hyperactive breed like a border collie or Australian shepherd was scratched from my Craigslist ad. My focus was on active dogs, but something a little more manageable. A few days later, an email from a woman named Allison popped into my inbox:

“Hello,

I have a 8-9 month old female, registered corgi that I need to find a home for.  She has been spayed, microchipped, has had all of her vaccines and is potty trained.  She is beautiful and sweet.  I just have too  many dogs and she is not getting enough attention!  She is great with kids, dogs, cats, ect.  (She is really easy) Please email or call me if you are interested in meeting her!”

Obviously, I was all in.

Tune in next week for part II. Thank you everyone!