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Page added April 4, 2015 |
Where silence gives us comfort
Deep beneath the surface
Awaits our sleep
Peter Bjärgo
"Horizon"
In the bitterly cold days between Christmas and New Year a little over 13 years ago, Sanna and I brought home a little dark brindle Cardigan boy. His name we derived from the weather: he came to be called Rosti — short for "Frosty".
I cannot recall that we ever talked about taking him on as the fourth dog in our family in the way we considered taking each one before him. Maybe he was simply meant to come and live with us.
Be that as it may, Rosti turned out to be something completely different from our other Welsh Corgis. He had none of the male Corgi machismo displayed by Rassi, Ripa or his own son Tikru later on. Neither did show any instinct for hunting like his compatriots, Ripa in particular, did. He did not have the patience for obedience or agility, despite being equally or perhaps even more energetic than the rest — and certainly more vocal. He did not even enjoy dog show circuit and yet paradoxically excelled there, as is evident by his many titles.
Instead, Rosti seemed to have decided that his only task in life was to be a pet. He lavished his humans with intense and boundless affection and was mellow enough to accept without the least complaint both my new love Minna and the two new Cardigan males that we adopted together after Tikru's death.
But even the greatest love cannot stop the wheel of time from turning. Rosti crew old. He crew frail. Finally, in the early days of this year, his kidneys failed. He lost his appetite. In the end, he refused to eat almost entirely. On the rainy Easter Saturday Minna and I had to consign him to the eternal dark.
Thirteen years is a blink of an eye when seen in retrospect. But for that short moment in time, we were honored beyond measure by Rosti's great devotion.
Jouni Pohjola & Minna Hyvönen
Piikkiö, Finland
April 4, 2015
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Page added April 4, 2015 |