One of the indigenous tribes in Alaska are the Athabascans. This is a lovely poem that describes how they feel about goodbye, and although I'm not Athabascan, it is exactly how I feel about my Tripper dog.


There Is No Word For Goodbye
Mary TallMountain

Sokoya, I said looking through
the net of wrinkles into
wise black pools
of her eyes.
What do you say in Athabascan
when you leave each other?
What is the word
for goodbye?
A shade of feeling rippled
the wind- tanned skin,
Ah, nothing, she said,
watching the river flash.
She looked at me close.
We just say Ttaa. That means,
See you.
We never leave each other.
When does your mouth
say goodbye to your heart?
She touched me light
as a bluebell.
You forget when you leave us;
you're so small then.
We don't use that word.
We always think you're coming back,
but if you don't
we'll see you someplace else.
You understand.
There is no word for goodbye.


I will not say goodbye to you my sweet Tripper dog, I will only say Ttaa.
I hope there are many harmless little cars for you to chase around in the place where you are going.
I hope it rains Tripper treats there and that an angel will be forever scratching behind your ears.
I will not forget your droopy eyes and that little sprout of soft golden hair on top of your head that const*ituted your entire winter coat.
I will not forget how happy you always were to see me, to see anyone.
You weren't much of a guard dog,.. more of a welcome dog. You would have gladly let a burgler into our home and showed him around, played a little frisbee with him.
I will chuckle with the memory of the dog catcher telling me how you had run right up to his van and jumped in. My God how you loved people, my God how you loved this life.
I will miss you my sweet, beautiful boy but I will not say goodbye. There is no word for goodbye.

Just to clarify, after re-reading this, it sounds like the dog catcher is how Tripper died. This is not the case, that was years ago, just a memory albeit a funny one.

I'll write about that another time.