They brought so much to our lives and will be sorely missed.

ZenMaster Max and the Snow Bridge

We talk of the Rainbow Bridge, but for the ZenMaster, it is a Snow Bridge. When you climb, ski, and explore in the snow and ice of the mountains, a "snow bridge" is a literally a span of snow that allows you to cross a crevasse or a river by walking on that thin finger of snow. The bridge will melt, of course, but hopefully you will find the snow bridge when you need it to cross to the other side. ZenMaster Max, the true "mountain dog", has crossed many a snow bridge in our wilderness wanderings, always eager to reach the other side to explore what lies ahead.

Now - ZenMaster Max has finally crossed that last Snow Bridge without me. I stood on one side of the Bridge and watched him go, his spirit racing across the Bridge to the wide expanse of snow and mountains beyond, leaving behind just the shell had finally collapsed with cancer. He gave me everything - 10 years and 8 months of amazing adventures, a list of titles, a constant companionship, a love of life, an entirely new way of viewing the world. In the end, I gave him peace and set his spirit free to be forever in the mountains he loves so much.

I had hoped to have him with us for Christmas, but I was afraid his race with cancer was almost over and this was not to be. I wished more than anything to have one last time with him in our mountain retreat in Mazama, but the long ten - twelve hour drive to our magic place made this dream unlikely as well. But small miracles do happen. The phone rang last Saturday and our friend Matt - who owns a private plane - asked if we wanted to fly to Mazama, just for the day - to ski and play in the snow. For Max, flying in Matt's small plane was just one more adventure to embrace.

Suddenly - like the swish of a wand - we were there, in the place that Max loves the most. He came alive again with all the ice and snow, his head was up, his eyes were alive with pleasure, and his illness- just for a day - was forgotten by both of us. He trotted with me down the paths that we have hiked a hundred times. He sniffed the frozen trees, he breathed the cool air and wagged his tail with all the joy he had as an eight week old puppy when we went to Mazama together for the first time. That short time together was a special gift, a wish granted, a moment in time to share our best loved place side by side, one last time. We flew home in the sunset, and Max sat in the back of the plane, looking out the window with a smile on his face as his mountains faded below him.
ZenMaster Max is in those mountains now, forever. I know when I go back I will see his paw prints in the snow, always in front, always leading, always looking for the next adventure. Live on, Max, in the peaks, the glaciers, the high alpine meadows...and in my heart.