For the third time in eight years, I found myself sitting on the floor in the veterinarian’s office in tears, saying goodbye to one our dogs. I had to have our Yorkshire Terrier, Trixie, put down this morning.

It was time, she was very old as dogs go, 17-year, one month and 18 days old in human time – 71-year’s in dog-years when properly calculated. She had long ago lost her ability to hear, she had only three teeth remaining and blindness and incontinence had come on her without warning.

For all of her life, Trixie was a brave, independent and stubborn spirit. She traveled and explored places with me, chased rabbits and even backed-down two Rottweiler’s that she felt had gotten to close to her human, earning her the nickname, “Rotten-weiler,” for a bit of time.

Once, while hiking the slopes of the ghost town, Bodie, California, I heard her barking furiously. After barking like a crazed-dog, she’d charge forward then race back to me.

After watching her do this a couple of times, I finally saw it: a rattle snake. Trixie not only was trying to chase it off, she was also warning me, trying to keep me safe. She got an extra treat for her bravery that evening.

She was also my ‘four-legged supervisor’ when it came to projects around the home. She was endlessly curious about whatever I was doing, whether re-plastering a wall and painting it to fixing our fence to pruning the rose bushes.

Her curiosity was such that as a puppy, she’d growl at the bull-skull that hangs in our living room. I’d hear her, but never could get to the living room in time to see what had her on alert.

Finally, after a couple of months, I watched as she placed her front paws on the wall, making herself twice her height and studied the skull some ten feet above her head. After a few seconds, she emitted a low growl of suspicion, which was finally satisfied when I pulled the thing from the wall and let her investigate it to her hearts’ content.

My wife and I both saw the change in her behavior and we knew that one day soon, we’d have to make the hated decision. That day came last Thursday when the always the food-centric dog no longer had an appetite and what she did eat, often came back up on her.

And instead of retreating to favorite blanket to sleep, as was generally her habit, she began standing for long periods, head down, back-hunched, listlessly staring into the distance and acting seemingly confused. That’s no way for a dog to live, especially Trixie, who had been so full of life at one time.

So there I sat, red-eyed, face-swollen from tears filled with both sadness and joy, as I reminisced over the memory of “Trixie-licks,” as I called her (she loved licking our faces – especially our noses.) She has more than earned her well-deserved rest.

Finally, with one more gentle kiss on her tiny nose, I let her go, forever. Rest well, my sweet little baby girl.

If I could go back before my birth, I’d tell my folks these things:

“Teach me to always tell the truth, even if it gets me or someone else in trouble.”
“Make me say my prayers each and every night.”
“Show me how to use my head before my fists.”
“Remind me to smile a lot, even when things are bad.”
“Help me learn to control my temper.”
“Finally, make sure I know there’s much more to life than stuff.”

Perhaps then I’d include, “And please — go easy on me when I set fire to the field while killing spiders.”

In his native Lakota tongue, Jimmy’s last name ‘Tatonka’ meant ‘buffalo,’ but no one on the Rez ever called him that – at least not since the Kevin Costner movie ‘Dances with Wolves.’ Every time he turned around, someone called him ‘Dances with Wolves,’ or ‘Sung’manitu Tanka Ob Waci.’

Fortunately for Jimmy, no one but his family knew how close to right they were, because Jimmy Tatonka had a secret, one he hid. Jimmy was a shape-shifter, imbued withe the spirit of the wolf, Sung’manitu, and had the tribe learned of this, he would’ve been shunned, hunted down and killed.

While most native mythology held shape-shifters as evil-doers, their were those few who, upon learning of their gift, decided to use it for good. To that end, Jimmy wanted to become the world’s best Native American Superhero, ‘Night Spirit.’

At one time the Lakota a had superhero, ‘Wicasa Wakan,’ the Sacred Man . Shortly after Joshua Brand, whose day job was as a U.S.  Fish and Wildlife agent, took the name ‘Stalking Wolf,’  some guy named Mike Grell outed him and ‘Stalking Wolf’ disappeared.

After college, Jimmy Tatonka moved to the nearest large city, where he quickly found work, and settling down in a nearby apartment. During the day, he labored for the city’s health department collating water, air and soil samples, and at night he wandered the back alleys seeking law-breakers.

One night, Jimmy finally got his chance. However, he quickly learned that crime-fighting wasn’t as easy as he’d been led to  believe as he found himself boxed into a dead-end ally.

The mistake was his and he knew it, so now he had no choice to fight for his survival and that meant breaking the cardinal super-hero rule of no killing. “Bats would be disgusted — but then the Batman would’ve never put himself in this situation.”

Hunkered down, the man blended with the shadows and shifted into his alter-ego. They had chased a man into the ally – not a wild animal – and Jimmy hoped he’d be able to use the advantage of surprise to get out of this predicament.

There, ‘Night Spirit’ waited for the criminal element to approach. But they were slow in coming and then they did not come at all.

Quietly, ‘Night Spirit’ moved along the wall, making certain to stay tucked inside the shadows. His foot falls remained silent as he tread his way towards the vacant street from which he’d recently ran.

“Strange — where’d they go?” He took notice of the utility truck parked half-way up the street, facing the wrong direction, headlights on.

Without warning, a loop shot over his head and around his neck. ‘Night Spirit’ found himself locked in a life-or-death struggle, unable to get away.

He put up a fight, hoping to getting free, but the more he struggled, the tighter the loop became and soon, ‘Night Spirit’ could neither breath nor hold on to consciousness. The next thing he knew, he awoke in a cage, laying on a cold cement floor in his human-form.

The dog-pound’s lone female attendant screamed in surprised at the sight of the naked man in the kennel. She ran to call her supervisor, who called the police.

It was a cigar-chewing detective in a long, thread-bare raincoat who, with the promise of finding the ‘asshole that committed such an unprecedented hate-crime against an Injun,’ released Jimmy from his would-be prison. After several hours of interviews, an unknown number of photographs and a jarring medical exam, Jimmy was given a ride home.

After closing the door behind himself, all Jimmy Tatonka could think was, “What a fucked up beginning for a super-hero.”