Will Rogers said, "If there
are no dogs in Heaven, then when I die I want to go where they went."
I awoke at 3 a.m. the other night, fear gripping my brow, dread crammed down my throat. Had I petted her and stroked her enough before the assistant took her from my arms? How frightened and abandoned she must feel.
My dog, a Chihuahua-dachshund round mound of lovin' pounds, recently underwent very serious surgery. I don't know how much longer I will have her in my life. This is serious stuff. I nearly lost her. Thanks to the skill of two surgeons working for hours, she will be here a while longer. She's a bit different though. The couch and bed now have shower curtains on them because, well, she leaks. And I will suffer any resulting social ostracizing to have her with me as long as possible, as long as she is not in pain.
Annie is more than a dog; she is family. She is as much a part of my daily living and daily learning as any human could be. What is she really like? Well...
She never once suggested I needed to rethink my wardrobe. When I feel bad, she applies her ever salubrious soul-saving saliva salve. She has never wavered in her commitment to be my best friend. She has heard more truth from me than any person has and has seen even more. Yes, she is fat (she has Cushings). But she is happy. Really happy. She is a very effective therapist, utilizing love implosion techniques. She can see in a single gesture what I am thinking. She knows only four emotional states: happy, sad, fearful and mad. Come to think of it, she's just like people that way. She is not my whole life, but has made my life whole.
There's a purity about dogs that is difficult to describe. If you have ever cared for a dog, you know. I say cared for, because we don't really own other living things, do we? Anyway, I think the wisdom of the dog is underrated. Let me explain. Annie has taught me some good stuff, like:
When thirsty, drink water.
When hungry, eat a snack.
When tired, sleep awhile.
A long walk can cure social deprivation and may even curb the blahs.
If you are happy, let it out. Dance a jig.
Show family you are glad they have returned home.
Forgive quickly.
Be wary of strangers.
Greet friends with gusto.
Always be yourself.
Sleep in any position that works.
Let others show you love.
Welcome affection at every moment.
Warn others quickly and loudly when there is danger.
Be loyal to those who treat you well.
Love can be pure, with no strings attached.
Wag your tail, not your tongue.
If someone feels bad, cuddle with them. No words are necessary./
External appearances are irrelevant.
If you want love, show love.
It is no great mystery why dogs are man's best friends--they offer unadulterated expressions of what is good in people. I envy their loyalty, their courage, their joy.
I wrote this piece about seven years ago. Annie didn't survive much longer than the appearance of that column. I miss her, and think for her often.
I awoke at 3 a.m. the other night, fear gripping my brow, dread crammed down my throat. Had I petted her and stroked her enough before the assistant took her from my arms? How frightened and abandoned she must feel.
My dog, a Chihuahua-dachshund round mound of lovin' pounds, recently underwent very serious surgery. I don't know how much longer I will have her in my life. This is serious stuff. I nearly lost her. Thanks to the skill of two surgeons working for hours, she will be here a while longer. She's a bit different though. The couch and bed now have shower curtains on them because, well, she leaks. And I will suffer any resulting social ostracizing to have her with me as long as possible, as long as she is not in pain.
Annie is more than a dog; she is family. She is as much a part of my daily living and daily learning as any human could be. What is she really like? Well...
She never once suggested I needed to rethink my wardrobe. When I feel bad, she applies her ever salubrious soul-saving saliva salve. She has never wavered in her commitment to be my best friend. She has heard more truth from me than any person has and has seen even more. Yes, she is fat (she has Cushings). But she is happy. Really happy. She is a very effective therapist, utilizing love implosion techniques. She can see in a single gesture what I am thinking. She knows only four emotional states: happy, sad, fearful and mad. Come to think of it, she's just like people that way. She is not my whole life, but has made my life whole.
There's a purity about dogs that is difficult to describe. If you have ever cared for a dog, you know. I say cared for, because we don't really own other living things, do we? Anyway, I think the wisdom of the dog is underrated. Let me explain. Annie has taught me some good stuff, like:
When thirsty, drink water.
When hungry, eat a snack.
When tired, sleep awhile.
A long walk can cure social deprivation and may even curb the blahs.
If you are happy, let it out. Dance a jig.
Show family you are glad they have returned home.
Forgive quickly.
Be wary of strangers.
Greet friends with gusto.
Always be yourself.
Sleep in any position that works.
Let others show you love.
Welcome affection at every moment.
Warn others quickly and loudly when there is danger.
Be loyal to those who treat you well.
Love can be pure, with no strings attached.
Wag your tail, not your tongue.
If someone feels bad, cuddle with them. No words are necessary./
External appearances are irrelevant.
If you want love, show love.
It is no great mystery why dogs are man's best friends--they offer unadulterated expressions of what is good in people. I envy their loyalty, their courage, their joy.
I wrote this piece about seven years ago. Annie didn't survive much longer than the appearance of that column. I miss her, and think for her often.
