15/06/2024
I think you might enjoy this. One of Bijou's "finest" red poodles memorialized in a statue befitting a king!
My Ghillie MacCready deserved such an honor.
It was April, 2023, and I was driving home, in the company of my four standard poodles who I affectionately refer to as my “Mates,” when we passed by a young man in his front yard yielding a chainsaw in ways I’d never thought possible. Donned in goggles, ear protection, and with sawdust swirling around him, I slowed my Jeep. He was surrounded by stumps of wood carved in such a way that I can only describe as a creative genius. There were bears, eagles, cardinals, whales, wolves, owls, and so much more, all in various stages of completion. It was an impressive sight, indeed, and I made a mental note that next time I passed by, I should slow to a crawl and take it all in.
That evening, I mentioned what I’d observed to my husband. He informed me he, too, had witnessed the young man hard at work at his craft and was impressed by his talents. He followed up his statement with, “I forgot to make mention of that to you.”
The “feel good stories” rarely make it to the top of our conversation list.
I said to my husband, “I wonder if the tree carver would craft a poodle statue for me?”
My husband responded, “Next time we pass by and he’s out there, we should stop and ask him.”
I envisioned an impeccably-groomed poodle carved from wood. It seemed appropriate considering most acquaintances recognize me as “The woman with the beautiful poodles.” Perhaps the tree carver could use one of my four standards as a model. Heaven knows I’ve got plenty of photos from which he could gather ideas. It was an exciting thought; but life got crazy and time just slipped away. Before I knew it, cold weather was on the horizon.
Throughout the winter months, as long as it wasn’t raining or snowing, and the sun was offering a bit of warmth, when I’d pass by the tree carver’s house, he would be outside, bundled up in heavy clothing, covered in sawdust and diligently working on one of many wood masterpieces encircling him.
Making conversation with my four Mates I said, “This spring, we’re gonna’ stop and inquire of the tree carver if he’d be willing to create that beautiful poodle statue I’ve been yakkin’ about for close to a year now.” The image of my four Mates sitting alongside an intricately-carved statue crafted in their likeness made me smile. It was something to look forward to when the weather warmed.
But life, with its unpredictability, can be very cruel. When the month of January 2024 ended, it had taken my red standard poodle Ghillie with it, as he passed away just 18 days into the New Year. For what seemed like an eternity, I numbly took life one day at a time. There was no “looking forward” to anything as the days blended one into the other. In hindsight, everything was a foggy gray as I plodded along without my boy. Ghillie’s three sisters were my life preservers, holding me up when all I wanted to do was sink to the bottom.
The first time I passed by the tree carver’s home without my boy sitting attentively in the back of my Jeep was another emotional milestone. I remembered Ghil’s expression just a year before when I chatted with him, his all-knowing, handsome face in my rearview mirror. If the tree carver were to be amenable to crafting a poodle out of a stump, I knew, even back then, I wanted it created in Ghillie’s likeness.
With tears ready to spill from my eyes and my voice cracking I said to Ghillie’s sisters, “Remember that poodle statue mama spoke of last year? Well, I’m gonna’ ask the tree carver if he’d be willing to make a statue in memory of Ghillie.”
Come the weekend, my husband and I passed by the tree carver’s home. He was outside in the bright sunshine, lost in one of his many creations. At long last, we stopped, and I shared with him my story. He was attentive, kind, sympathetic and understood not only the impact of my loss but what a memorial statue of my boy would mean to me.
He said, “I’ve never done a poodle before, but I’d like to give it a try.” That was probably the first time I’d felt good about anything in the three months since Ghil’s passing.
Acknowledging the fact creativity cannot be hurried, I assured the tree carver I was in no rush. Ghillie’s memorial was personal to me alone; and regardless of how long it took to carve from wood, I would eventually derive comfort from it; but even in its completion, it would never bring Ghillie back. Other than me wanting to have it for myself, there was no reason to impose a suspense date.
I had decided upon its completion, it would be placed on our porch in front of our picture window, a place where Ghil enjoyed sitting as he observed the occasional passersby on our quiet country road. The same picture window that when inclement weather did not allow for outdoor viewing, he’d sit in front of in our living room, his personal window to the world.
I passed by the tree carver’s home a number of times over the following twelve weeks or so. Occasionally, I’d catch a glimpse of my boy. He stood out like a sunflower in a field of daisies, a poodle among the bears, birds, seahorses and other amazing creatures brought to life by the imagination of a skilled tree carver and his trusty chainsaw.
Weeks later, passing by, I hoped to catch a glimpse of my boy, and I did. The tree carver was working diligently, and there was no denying it was Ghillie. A few more weeks passed when my husband and I stopped by once again. Much progress had been made as the tree carver had impressively created tiny ripple-like indentations in the wood giving the illusion of poodle coat. My boy was coming to life.
On the 6th of June, I was notified that my Ghillie was ready. The tree carver saw to his safe arrival, delivering Ghillie’s memorial statue to its place of honor on our front porch.
My boy is home.
In hindsight, I believe the tree carver’s talents were always meant to create a memorial for my boy. For me, the spontaneous purchase of a whimsical poodle statue, simply for the novelty of having it, was never meant to be.
At my request, my boy’s name, “Ghillie MacCready,” and a simple cross, were carved into the base of the memorial. A chainsaw in the hands of a talented tree carver can be as creatively beautiful a tool as a potter’s wheel in the hands of a talented potter.
The gifted are oftentimes placed in our paths when we need them the most, giving credence to the phrase, “God-given talent.”
In spirit, Ghillie will always remain by my side; and every time I sit on my front porch, I am reminded of that. I sense his presence, and it gives me peace knowing that when Ghil sees this impressive statue carved from wood in his likeness and displayed in his special place, a place that brought him so much enjoyment, he is assured that he is not forgotten, that he was loved and always will be.
God bless.
Laurie R.
