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Mar. 28th, 2026 06:38 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
greenstormI remember picking Avallu up at the airport. When he was let out of his crate I was surprised he wasn't taller, but he kept coming out, such a long body. He moved like floating, effortlessly, with his tail held up like a flag even when baby Thea kept chasing it and he kept it canted to one side a bit for awhile.
I didn't know his language -- he spoke german -- and he didn't know mine. His handler had come over to drop him off and he definitely knew to look to her for guidance, but when I took the leash he looked to me. At one point he looked up at me and she said, "tell him he's doing well".
We drove home that fall, Tucker and I, with this giant dog. We walked him fairly frequently, in a park in Quesnel, by the Fraser at a campsite where he politely didn't roll in a rotten fish -- he'd been taught not to because people put out poisoned meat in his area, apparently, so for the longest time he only ate when given permission. We learned to communicate more in body language than language I think; it comes more naturally to me.
He's probably the most magnificent athlete I ever spent time with. He could jumo anything and make it look effortless. That September, when he got home to Threshold, we went into the tall grass in the back and he breached through it like a frolicking dolphin. In the winters, whenever he went outside he'd roll in the snow like a squiggled line drawing of pure joy.
He always wanted me to be iin his sight, especially outdoors. He'd put himself somewhere he could see me and ideally also see as many sightlines as possible. When he was near me he'd lean his butt against me and keep his eyes out on the horizon. He took my protection very seriously, and he loved me like an angsty teenager with quick jealousy and absolute intensity.
Avallu had very firm ideas on who could be on the property. He has both bit and nipped people he didn't approve of; he's also bared his belly to those he did. For his sake I learned boundaries I might not have learned any other way. I learned to lift my hand in a stop because it was faster than saying "wait stop" before people opened the gate and came in without prior permission, a layer of physical negation that was terrifying, but was worth it to keep him safe. I learned to only let people in the house if it was worth managing Avally safely and kindly: did he have somewhere I could put him where he would feel ok? Was it for an amount of time I was ok putting him away for?
And when he caught on to what I was doing I could see the relief in him when I came up to the gate and told him to get to his safe place before I let anyone in. By that time he trusted me to handle the issue, and he knew that being in his safe place meant he didn't have to be on guard.
His fur smelled like safety. He was there for me so many many times. I felt safe with him in the yard, so safe I could leave the house unlocked and the keys in the truck, but I also felt safe with my face in his fur. He loved me. He wouldn't leave me; he would neither tresspass his boundaries for me nor would he be offended by mine. We would just be together as much as we could, supporting each other as much as we could, and we did. I always kind of thought of Thea as the spirit of the land here, and Avallu as my own partner.
You always know they're going to go away. I wanted him to go before me, because I didn't want anyone else to have him who might think of him as a burden, as a reactive dog, instead of as the most steadfast partner who gave his entire life to keep mine safe. He's gone away, he's gone before me; he started vomiting yesterday and I made a vet's appointment for next week, but this morning I needed to get Tanya to help me lift him into the truck because he couldn't stand.
His spleen had ruptured and he was bleeding into his abdomen. It was cancer. I wish his last day had been something kinder than being manhandled into the vet's, but I was there with him with his head on my arm until the end. Every time the vet assistants came in he laid down his head to rest, and when they left he would lift it, panting, to keep watch. Even to the end.
It's the cleanest love I've ever felt for anyone. I intersect many lives in such a complicated way, and people are better off to limit their intimacy and go elsewhere for their deepest heart connections, and honestly I'm probably better doing the same. With Avallu, though, we were just together. And now we're not.
It's worth everything to have been with him, for him to existed in the world, it makes the world worthwhile that it could have been a platform for us to live together.
Thank you, pup. For everything. For every single thing. I will love you forever. When they find my bones in the soil all they'll know is that my bones loved you.
I didn't know his language -- he spoke german -- and he didn't know mine. His handler had come over to drop him off and he definitely knew to look to her for guidance, but when I took the leash he looked to me. At one point he looked up at me and she said, "tell him he's doing well".
We drove home that fall, Tucker and I, with this giant dog. We walked him fairly frequently, in a park in Quesnel, by the Fraser at a campsite where he politely didn't roll in a rotten fish -- he'd been taught not to because people put out poisoned meat in his area, apparently, so for the longest time he only ate when given permission. We learned to communicate more in body language than language I think; it comes more naturally to me.
He's probably the most magnificent athlete I ever spent time with. He could jumo anything and make it look effortless. That September, when he got home to Threshold, we went into the tall grass in the back and he breached through it like a frolicking dolphin. In the winters, whenever he went outside he'd roll in the snow like a squiggled line drawing of pure joy.
He always wanted me to be iin his sight, especially outdoors. He'd put himself somewhere he could see me and ideally also see as many sightlines as possible. When he was near me he'd lean his butt against me and keep his eyes out on the horizon. He took my protection very seriously, and he loved me like an angsty teenager with quick jealousy and absolute intensity.
Avallu had very firm ideas on who could be on the property. He has both bit and nipped people he didn't approve of; he's also bared his belly to those he did. For his sake I learned boundaries I might not have learned any other way. I learned to lift my hand in a stop because it was faster than saying "wait stop" before people opened the gate and came in without prior permission, a layer of physical negation that was terrifying, but was worth it to keep him safe. I learned to only let people in the house if it was worth managing Avally safely and kindly: did he have somewhere I could put him where he would feel ok? Was it for an amount of time I was ok putting him away for?
And when he caught on to what I was doing I could see the relief in him when I came up to the gate and told him to get to his safe place before I let anyone in. By that time he trusted me to handle the issue, and he knew that being in his safe place meant he didn't have to be on guard.
His fur smelled like safety. He was there for me so many many times. I felt safe with him in the yard, so safe I could leave the house unlocked and the keys in the truck, but I also felt safe with my face in his fur. He loved me. He wouldn't leave me; he would neither tresspass his boundaries for me nor would he be offended by mine. We would just be together as much as we could, supporting each other as much as we could, and we did. I always kind of thought of Thea as the spirit of the land here, and Avallu as my own partner.
You always know they're going to go away. I wanted him to go before me, because I didn't want anyone else to have him who might think of him as a burden, as a reactive dog, instead of as the most steadfast partner who gave his entire life to keep mine safe. He's gone away, he's gone before me; he started vomiting yesterday and I made a vet's appointment for next week, but this morning I needed to get Tanya to help me lift him into the truck because he couldn't stand.
His spleen had ruptured and he was bleeding into his abdomen. It was cancer. I wish his last day had been something kinder than being manhandled into the vet's, but I was there with him with his head on my arm until the end. Every time the vet assistants came in he laid down his head to rest, and when they left he would lift it, panting, to keep watch. Even to the end.
It's the cleanest love I've ever felt for anyone. I intersect many lives in such a complicated way, and people are better off to limit their intimacy and go elsewhere for their deepest heart connections, and honestly I'm probably better doing the same. With Avallu, though, we were just together. And now we're not.
It's worth everything to have been with him, for him to existed in the world, it makes the world worthwhile that it could have been a platform for us to live together.
Thank you, pup. For everything. For every single thing. I will love you forever. When they find my bones in the soil all they'll know is that my bones loved you.
