Three years ago today, Hecate Moon Wolf went off to faerie land on her next big adventure. I did not think I could live without her and I did not imagine I could fall in love again but "I am somehow still around", to quote John Betcheman. On the beach today I met another woman who had been owned by a canine Katy, someone to share some fond memories with. I put a chicken drum stick on her grave in my woman made stone circle in my garden. I have posted all the photos I can find of her here as a permanent memorial. All the photos are by me except the last one, the only one I can find of the two of us. I wrote the poem on her last birthday which we spent at Non's Well eating the most delicious vegan cake, made especially for the event by Lunar Rage.
at Callanish at the lunar stand still
At the Cairnpapple
Photograph by Witchhazel Wildwood at Waylands Smithy 1999, the only photo I can find of both of us.
On Spring Equinox 1998,
seven weeks after I rescued Xena Warrior Princess,
a filthy, toothless Yorkie,
running down the middle of Rotherhithe New Road,at midnight, on Imbolc,
who deserved a heroic and courageous name,
and, just before I rescued another Yorkie called Suzy,
you were born.
Fierce, irascible Aries warrior,
they had called you Shreddie, after your penchant for shredding tissues, I presume?
And, six months later,
when I had had two rehearsals,
two reassurances that I was qualified to companion a canine,
we met.
This was less than a month since a Dalmatian ate my Suzy in Rotherhithe park,
and left a hole in my heart as fatal as the one his fang made in hers,
as big as the one her human had left in her heart, when she had died of cancer.
We met less than a month since my empty eyed next door neighbour,
off her medication,
tried to strangle me.
Within a few days of watching the life shaken out of Suzy,
I was gasping for breath,
facing the truth that I did not have the strength to escape,
facing inevitable, merciless, unseeing death
for the second time in less than a week,
when three angels
flew up from the Rotherhithe New Road
and pulled my attacker away from my throat.
I know they were angels
who else could they be?
Who else on Rotherhithe New Road
would notice or bother?
I pushed my door shut,
slid to the floor
and never saw them again.
On Autumn Equinox,
seven months and three weeks since Xena Warrior Princess
ran into my life on Rotherhithe New Road,
six months after you were born in Kent,
five months since Suzy's heart was broken when her human died,
almost four weeks since she then grew cold in my arms,
a few days since angels spared my life,
you jumped onto my lap
and told me I was not going home without you.
The white hairs in your miniature wolf coat reflected the full moon
on our first walk in Sydenham Hill Wood
when you told me your goddess name:
Hecate Moon Wolf.
Were you a gift, a recompense from the goddess of death
or were you dedicated to her
in the hope she would not claim you before your time?
She did not claim you before your time:
Thirteen years after your birth
thirteen being Hecate's number,
you were still here,
still teaching me,
still telling me what to do
still dancing for joy in anticipation of dinner and bones and treats,
still protecting me form cats and cows and humans,
with a warning growl and bark.
You growled to protect me from Suzy's murderer and his human
the first time we passed them on our way to the park.
A cultured canine from the very start,
the gallery in the park was a favourite venue of yours,
and, as my pagan power wolf,
you made magic with me in circles of women.
On our first ever holiday, you decorated white b&b sheets
with mud from the labyrinths in Rocky valley.
We spent our first winter solstice together in Cornwall.
The first time you saw the sea your barked,
a brave little soul pitted against ten foot waves.
We danced my zodiac of masks in Boscawen Un stone circle
and we moved to the land of stone circles in time of the 1999 eclipse.
You ran circles of joy round the Men an Tol every time we visited.
We walked cliff paths,
drew labyrinths on the beach,
kissed circle upon circle of stones,
played and slept under Uffington White Horse,
bathed in sacred wells and healing oceans,
nestled in beech tree roots at Avebury
drummed as the sun set and the full moon rose over Glastonbury Tor,
and slept for two weeks beside the Callanish cathedral of stones
as the full lunar stand still danced on the earth.
Thank you for choosing me.
Thank you for loving me.
Thank you for walking with me on this earth journey.
I look at you and smile.
You fill my heart with love.
Your bark brings me into the present moment,
into living in the here and now,
into enjoying each moment of living with and loving you
my Hecate Moon Wolf,
my KKKKaty,
beautiful Katy
You're the only KKKate that I adore.
When the moon shines
over our cow shed,
I'll be waiting by the kkkkitchen door.
