Golden Ashes in the Grey Blue Ocean
I carefully removed her ashes from the beautiful locked wooden box that Twiggy had arrived home in for the last time. It was a first since her death that I had the courage to even open this small silken box. I peeked inside and her ashes were sealed in a plastic bag along with a lock of her fur tied together with a brown satin ribbon. I thought, “such a small amount of ashes”, how is that even possible I wondered…
The bag was opaque and smooth, it looked secure for all practical purposes but since I was putting her in my carry on luggage I wanted to make 100 percent sure that the bag did not tear open and sprinkle little Twiggy dust all over my clothing. So, I grabbed an Albertson’s bag from under the sink and double bagged and then just for good measure, I tripled bagged her ashes.
I am fairly certain that flying with cremated pet remains in the passenger cabin is against FAA regulations but I didn’t care. What if the airline was to loose my luggage with my precious Twiggy inside?
I placed her ashes carefully between a favorite green fleece sweatshirt and some rolled up socks, careful that the bag would not be punctured by anything inside my suitcase. Then I crossed my fingers that my luggage would not be searched.
We all made it through airport security, that is, Tom my husband, Jojo my Poodle, myself and of course Twiggy. So far so good, no problems at security.
A couple of bumpy hours later we landed at Sea Tac International Airport and we were quickly whisked away in the slightly dented red dodge mini-van precariously driven by my 78 year old dad.
Heading south toward Tacoma we were on our way to Moclips beach. Now this is really a PODUNK town. It lies about 75 miles NW of Tacoma Washington and is located in Grays Harbor County. The most recent census of 2010 states a population of 207, now that is small! I think maybe they were counting the Razor clams as well on census day!
It is a beautiful place of solitude with miles of empty beaches. On a busy day you may run into possibly five humans strolling the misty grey shoreline, a few dogs and some beautifully colored kites, which seem to fly on their own with all the wind down at the beach.
I absolutely love this place and have been going there almost ever year my entire life. It is the spot you want to be with your dog, just to watch them run with joy.
It seemed fitting then after Twiggy Wilson died, that this beach is where she belonged, along with her tennis ball of course!
The next day was perfect, sunny and clear and after my sister and her husband had arrived from Snohomish, we decided it was time to lay Twiggy to rest. Most of my family was there and came along with my husband and I down to the same spot where we had last said goodbye to Nala (our Airedale) about three years earlier.
As we walked over the dunes I was on the lookout for the perfect pieces of driftwood and sea grass to tie together for Twiggy’s own very special cross. One by one I plucked them from the grainy sand and handed them to Tom so that he could bind them together.
Heading out of the dunes and onto firmer sand, I fingered my jacket gently. In my right pocket was Twiggy and in my left pocket was a brand new “Wilson” tennis ball. I had written her name and my phone number all over it with a black “Sharpie” and then just to be sure I wrote it all again with a red “Sharpie”. My plan was to spread her ashes into the Moclips river and then toss the ball towards the Pacific Ocean as far out as I could, hoping that it would catch the current and float away.
My optimistical miracle was, that another dog would find this ball and bring it to its human with a flapping wag of a tail. Of course the ball would be covered in salt water and slobber, the Sharpie may have faded a bit. Would my scribblings even still be legible I wondered?
The dog would hand over his new treasure, sit in front of his owner and patiently stare him down, willing him to throw the ball. The man would absentmindedly brush off the stuck on sand and just before he threw it, he would notice the writing. Would he call me? Of course he would! Even if it was just out of curiosity. I mean who really writes their phone number on a tennis ball!?
Sometimes though, miracles are nearly right in front of you…
We said our goodbyes to Twiggy, everyone but mom and I headed quickly to the car, we lagged behind a bit, I really wasn’t quite ready to go. After several impatient glares from my husband who was worried our illegal park job was going to get the car towed, we eventually started our trek back up the sand dunes, back to the dented mini van. My pockets were both empty now, but my heart and mind were full of peaceful memories.
For some reason I turned around for one last look and way off in the distance I saw an orange dog and a man. It looked like he was throwing something into the river, but what was it? The dog crashed through the surf with joy for whatever he had just tossed into the water. “Mom”, I said, “look!” We had to go back, we had to see what the dog was chasing.
We arrived at the spot and looking down into this strangers hand was a sand covered bright green tennis ball. I quickly introduced ourselves and after babbling on about Twiggy I asked Rick if I could see the ball. He handed it over and I quickly rubbed the sand off to see my phone number and her name!
I asked Rick where he found the ball and he told me that his dog Missy had found it in the water. I was so happy to just stand there and watch Missy chase after Twiggy’s ball. I was inspired, energized and content all in one.
I knew that Twiggy was in a better place and I also knew that my grieving for this wonderful little girl had come to an end for me. Of course I will always think of her and miss her, but now Missy comes to mind as well. Missy a nine year old Lab mix who loved Wilson just as much as Twiggy did.
In Loving memory of Twiggy, who wandered the streets of Las Vegas, was picked up by animal control, then pulled from Lied by Golden Retriever Rescue and finally she rescued me…
By Nancy Wegis
