Parting Shot- RIP Fiona Queen of Canoga

I went out to the summer kitchen this morning t0 prepare for a morning duck hunt and to meet X-man. Fiona had died in the night, peacefully, in her bed. She had been declining all week and last night I just had a feeling I might not see her alive again. She had a hard time getting up the stairs, so I picked her up and tucked her in. We hung out for about an hour, me snuggling her, her licking me. I left her at about midnight, resting comfortably, having watched me clean the gun, pack the blind bag, blow the duck call, like so, so many other times. Unlike so many other early mornings, though, she was not there wagging her tail as I opened the door in the pre-dawn darkness. She lay still.

Rich asked if we were still on, sympathetic to the situation. But we quickly agreed that the best and most appropriate thing to be done was to go duck hunting, and to bring Fiona with us, one last time. I brought Fiona down to Double Black in a sled, with a bottle of Armagnac, a favorite photo of Fi, an old wooden decoy that she favored as a pup, and some daffodil bulbs. Mike O' joined the hunt. Fiona was placed gently in her favorite spot, just to the right of Double Black blind, at the waters edge. We commenced hunting, though sobered by the loss of our pal. There were birds, and we called at them as enthusiastically as possible. We reminisced. Dog stories, hunting stories, family stories.

Moira joined the hunt at around 9 am. By then we had scratched down a pair of Mergs. We drank coffee, and a black duck approached from the North. With a little coaxing, it made the decoys and fell to my gun. McPhee made a classic long retrieve, with me paddling the canoe as an escort. It was a stunning fall morning, blue skies, very light winds, all of us soaking in the layered meanings of this autumn funeral, from different yet similar vantage points.

Another pair of black ducks approached from the north. Rich made a very nice shot on the left to right flier and dumped the bird, and I hit it on the water as it appeared to still have life in it. It did indeed still have life and somehow managed to barely evade Mcphee, who was working for retrieve number four for the day. The duck miraculously made land and gave Mcphee and Rich the slip. More on that later.

As the morning gave way to the warmth of the sun and the approach of noon, I reluctantly decided it was time to take Fiona to her final resting place. I dug her grave in the short grass, under a tree, near Double Black, with a good view to the lake. I laid her to rest, still confused about my emotions, distracted by my lack of real connection to it all; perhaps even frustrated that my grieving was not occurring in an orderly way. I should have hunted with her Wednesday... I should have stayed with her last night until the end. She should be with me now, and not in this hole.

I placed the wooden decoy between her front paws, and the expended shells from the morning's memorial hunt. Moira placed the daffodil bulbs with care. Mike O' and Rich stood by reverently, all of us in waders and waterfowling apparel. The first few shovels of soil were difficult...ashes to ashes, dust to dust-- the marsh is sure a moist place for dust. Still feeling disconnected, but managing, the task was complete. I felt a little emotion in my voice as I said "Good girl Fi, Goodbye..."

Mike O', Rich and I gave Fiona a proper 21 gun (almost) salute. It was a truly perfect fall day, and the three volleys echoed throughout the marsh. I vaguely noticed that McPhee was missing. He came through the marsh grass and walked straight over to Fiona's grave, sniffing intently and pausing over where her head lay, under the moist soils of the marsh , facing east. I had come to terms with the end of my long friendship with Fiona, but did not feel closure. And then, I heard a mirthful laugh, a happy sound from Double Black. It was happy and it was relief. Rich was exclaiming in amazement, because there, laying in Double Black, was the originally lost Black duck.

I knew immediately what that sound meant, and I breathed only "..yes." Finally, I connected with it all. I laughed and sobbed all at once. My Fiona is gone, and yet, things are as they should be.

We don't know whether when Mcphee visited Fiona's fresh grave, he learned from her the location of that Black duck, or that he told her in ways only dogs understand that all was well at Double Black, and that all ducks were accounted for. But the Red God's told us all that Fiona was resting peacefully, cradled in Canoga Marsh, and that things would continue, as they should be.

Rest in Peace, Fiona Queen of Canoga