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.
