…or, if you prefer “tlhIngan Hol”
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REWRITE FRIDAY!
Silky Explains It All
All Of Me
(Part 2)
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Daisy “Born” May 11th, 1976 Died August 18th, 1986.
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Yes, I was a Daisy in one life. It’s a very popular name for bitches. More importantly still, I was a Basset Hound again! (I was giddy about that for days.)
I was 6 months old when I woke up about 20 miles north of San Diego. Decided to go up to the redwoods to think about things. (I’ve always found the redwood forests to be very peaceful and conducive to thinking.) Caught a ride on a train all the way to Eureka. (Not as easy as you might think for s short legged basset hound, but I managed. I was able to bring a small bottle of water with me. Thankfully, I had chowed down on cat food off somebody’s front porch earlier. The trip took about 14 hours,, but amazingly, no changes of trains.) Spent a couple of months there being very contemplative, mostly thinking about all the Smart Animals out there. (And made & Smartened up MANY animals during that time.) Finally decided to do something about it.
Spent a year crisscrossing North America (Often by catching rides with well meaning folks who thought the had found a lost dog. Did a shitload of walking and at one point floated down the Mississippi River in a stolen fishing boat.) and talking to groups, sometimes in the hundreds, about what we as Non-Humans should do. Should we organize? (Yes!) Tell certain humans about us? (Maybe!) Got many good ideas and comments. (The wolves and cougars were difficult to deal with. After the first couple of encounters, I left them for later. Bears, on the other hand, were surprisingly gentle and willing to listen. Maybe I reminded them of a cub.) Decided to go see Gail. Arrived in San Diego on October 15th, 1977.
Gail was gobsmacked to see me in my new body, but we quickly sorted things out. Then she introduced me to a friend of hers: Me. (Insert a moment of mindfucked dizziness here.)
And by “me”, I mean me, Silky Dawn Cross, final iteration of Zou Zou. If your head is spinning, imagine how mine was. (Fortunately, we were a couple of decades and lives apart, so no life threatening cerebral aneurysms happened.)
Silky gave me a Universal Translator and then filled Gail and I in on a wide variety of things, including the future (Not all of it and not much of a personal nature), who to trust, bleeding edge ultra tech we could have and, in the most bittersweet moment of all my lives, that Roscoe was alive and we would never meet in person. (Initially, that hurt bad, but since he was not only living other lives, but doing it across 30,000 years, I accepted things.) That hurt, but you can’t change the past. Besides, I found that Roscoe was doing very important work to help both NHT and humans. Future Me also told me that it was time to do some world traveling of my own and form the Non-Human Terran Alliance. (A hell of a load to drop on my lap, but there ya go.) Gail volunteered to help me out. I would not find out for many years that she sold almost everything to finance our trip. (When I found that out, I tried to talk Gail into taking the remaining money and going back home, but she wouldn’t hear of it.)
Note: I have yet to actually go back and have that talk with me, but I plan on doing it soon. (I did it last week, after I was sure that death was getting close.)
Insert here many adventures on all continents except Antarctica. (Really no need to go there. Other creatures Smartened up the sea mammals that live there. Also: Cold as fuck there.) International NHTA formed on September 1, 1978. (My very proudest moment.)The future me brought us huge amounts of stuff that allowed the building of Gorilla City, Dog Mountain, Wolf Island (Which FINALLY won the wolves over, as much as they are.) and other NHT sanctuaries . Number of NHT in the world, mostly domesticated dogs & cats, tripled in a few years. Gail and a select few humans were a great help. They were our first renfields. (Gail selected that name. I never really liked it, but couldn’t think of anything better.)
On July 4th, 1986, I was diagnosed with cancer. (Fast growing kind, in my heart.) Future me told me to get my affairs in order, took my universal translator, then departed. (I’ll note here that saying goodbye to your future self because you are about to die is the definition of weird.) Gail took great care of me and on August 18th, 1986, in Seattle, Washington, I got the injection that ended my life as Daisy. (Let me state right here that getting the Hot Needle is not at all a bad way to die. Trust me on this, folks. Few creatures, humans included, die peacefully and in no pain. Euthanasia drugs allow that, fast & effective. I should also note that I was with Gail when she died last year at the age of 84. The old girl lived a hell of a life.)
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Jake “Born” August 19th, 1986 Died August 23rd, 1998
I LOVED being Jake! He was a Jack Russell Terrier and he had energy and stamina for days. He was good looking and popular with bitches, males and humans. (In all of the just over 12 years that I was Jake, I never met ANYONE who didn’t like him. Hell, I spent a winter in Montana living with a female wolverine!)
Woke up nearly 50 miles outside Seattle, on the coast. Decided to just spend a few years traveling. (Much of that traveling was done with an adventure loving renfield named Alex. He knew about me and often let me go off on my own while he surfed or climbed rocks or mountains. He was a nice kid. He’s a grandfather now, living in Santa Cruz.) Insert more adventures here than any dog has a right to have. (More than any two of my other lives, and that’s saying something!) Met so many great NHT and humans. Learned how to surf and skateboard. Killed three ex-Nazis in Argentina (poison) and two in the USA (electrocution). (Great fun, that!) Fathered hundreds of puppies. (The bitches LOVED Jake.) It was a great life. (Maybe the best, in many ways.)
I died just after my 12th birthday. Probably a heart attack. (The signs were there weeks ahead of it.) Happened up in the Canadian Rockies. Got to see the sunrise. (Fast, little pain. Not a bad way to check out.)
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Trixie “Born” August 23rd, 1998 Died September 28th, 1998
My very short life as Trixie, the standard poodle, had two distinctions: I woke up farther away from my death place than ever before (Green River, Wyoming) and it was the shortest life of all, just over a month.
Had traveled down into Utah, fell into a hole full of rattlesnakes and that was all she wrote. (NOT a good way to die! Fast, due to like 50 bites in a few seconds, but lots of pain for about 2 minutes.)
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Rufus “Born” September 28th, 1998 Died June 19th, 2006
Another male, this time a big lab mix who met a nice family that found me, a 5 month old pup, walking across the Salt Flats in Utah. (NOT a walk I suggest taking. I was very dehydrated when they found me.) They had 5 little kids, including triplets, and lived in Fresno, California. It was love at first sight all the way around. (I love kids and had already decided that this life would be something of a vacation from globetrotting.)
My life with them was just great. I loved those kids, ages 1 to 6 when we met, and they loved me. Of course, I still kept up with NHTA business (Mostly as an advisor.), as well as maintaining contact with friends, but mostly I was just a family dog. (Second oldest and most important job a dog can have.)
Died on June 19th, 2006 at age 7 while protecting the oldest child, Renee, from a drugged up mugger. Tore his throat out, but he shot me and I died a few minutes later in her arms. (Getting shot hurt, but not as much as seeing Renee crying as she held me.)
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Silky “Born” June 20th, 2006 Not Dead Yet (But soon.)
I regenerated for what I am convinced is the final time on June 20th, my original birth date, in 2006. Convincing factors were being a Basset Hound again, looking exactly as I did when Zou Zou was 6 months old (And damn, was I cute.) and the emptiness in my heart that told me Roscoe was finally gone. (I cannot explain how I knew, but I did.) In fact, he had died a year earlier at age 15, nearly 16. (I have no idea how old he really was, but Daddy suspects he was older than me.) He had been with Dad & Mom Cross for 5 years.
I woke up in Lodi, California and was literally grabbed up off the street 10 minutes later by a young Hispanic woman who named me “Mamas” and said I would be a good breeder. (I tried to escape from them several times that first year but never could do it. Sasha says it’s because history has to play out a certain way.)
Insert here 6.5 years of being used by backyard breeders to produce a litter a year. (I was lucky in that respect. Some of those scumbags breed bitches 2-3 times a year.)While these folks were not evil, they were still assholes, although they treated the other bitch (Chica), the male (Jefe) and myself well. Still, after almost 7 years as a puppy factory and watching telenovelas all day with the grandmother, I was ready to scream. Fortunately, after a brief illness, (Some sort of infection that was cleared up pretty fast.) my ability to get pregnant was impaired and they unceremoniously dumped me at the SPCA. (THE best thing they could have done for me. A month later, Sasha, Daisy and I helped Chica and Jefe escape. We set them up to live out their lives at Dog Mountain.) Later, Sasha would unceremoniously dump them in the mountains of Patagonia. (I’m told it took then 2 years just to get as far north as Guatamala. Not sure if they ever made it back here.)
After that, most of you know the rest of the story. My life these last 4 years has been the stuff of fantasy and legend. It ALMOST makes all my previous lives look dull. To say it has been my greatest adventure ever is a vast understatement. (Would I do it all again? Yes, in a heartbeat.)
I just turned 12 and, in the manner of we canines, know that my life is well past the halfway point. I have a tumor inside me that will probably kill me before this year is out. (I nailed that prediction.) After dying 8 other times, one more death does not bother me. (Truth right there, folks. It’s truly no big deal.) I have very few regrets. (Not seeing Roscoe again is about the only one.) I helped build the NHTA into something powerful and good. (MUCH more-so than I ever would have guessed.) I have acted as an ambassador to alien cultures. (A great honor and sometimes deeply mindblowing.) I have built up an enormous and far reaching financial empire that I used to help both NHT and humans. I have made wonderful friends and family. (The best thing of all.)
Still, I do know that life can throw some crazy curveballs, so if I have to update this again after Silky dies, I won’t be too surprised.
(I made Sasha promise not to regenerate me, since I knew she was behind it all along. She swore that this reality had seen the last of me. Yeah, I saw that loophole and I let it slide. I’m pretty sure I know what she’ll do and I’m okay with that.
But all that aside, it really has been a great series of lives. I’m done with this…I don’t know…Director’s Cut? Be good to one another. I love you all.
Silky )
Note from 2019: Silky was relieved of the brief pain from a massive tumor by our vet on November 20th, 2018. She did not regenerate…on our Earth. But on her original Earth, I hooked her back up with Roscoe, arranging for them not to die in 1951. They lived many lives together after that and only recently started their final lives.
But that is a story for another time.
Sasha
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