Timber’s Farewell

The Heart and Soul of Timber
In Loving Memory of Timber
My Beautiful Canadian Timber Wolf,” aka Timber 

Around 4 million years ago, but your blood still runs through my German Shepherd Dogs 

Why did you come into my life? I should’ve never gotten you. You didn’t belong where I had taken you. But we were driven by some powerful force to meet and be together for a short time. You were taken from your mother at such a young age. I cared for you like my child. You were extremely fascinating in every aspect of nature. You grew into a magnificent specimen of yourself. Your eyes haunted my inner soul. You were like no other. You were mysterious in every manner — and gorgeous beyond imagination. To look into your amber eyes, to feel your untamed fur, to touch the thickness of your ears, to put my arms around you, to smell you, to walk with you was like no other vision. I carried a deep passion to possess you. I’m sorry for my humanly weakness. Your wolf-song was surreal to my ears. I still hear it my dreams. I will remember and treasure all of these things to the end of time. All of those facets were your trademark. If I would’ve had clear foresight in the beginning, I would have never possessed you. You, a great teacher as the Native American’s have always portrayed in their many stories. You did teach me much about life and what you were all about. I thank you for that. Evidently, we were destined to be together in this life. But I finally had to set your tortured soul free from such confinement. The moon will never be disgraced by the howling of your kin. …In my dreams let me hear your wolf-song many times over and over again.

“Timber, in your next life — may you always walk into the direction of a well-lit path.”
© Kathy Sater Partch

Brother-in-law Robert Knutson holding baby Timber.

Photo: Dorothy Partch

Niece Missy Knutson Hart with Timber

My mom Muriel Sater playing with Timber in our back yard in Red Wing, MN

My brother Terry Sater was trying to take a number of photos of us but Timber kept trying to get at Terry’s camera. So I was holding him back and laughing in how difficult it was to take his photo. He was only a year old here – just a baby yet! I’m writing the story about Timber and my struggles in trying to keep him. What a beautiful face he had. He did not act or smell anything like a dog.

Bottle feeding Timber while Medora loved to watch while sitting on her favorite chair

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