It’s hard to understand what it is to love a dog until a dog has loved you. To an outsider, they might be cute and furry and perform funny tricks on command, but they’ll never be able to comprehend the weight or power the unconditional love of dog brings. You can be a dog person, but that doesn’t mean your heart has been totally eaten up by one.
They cannot speak. They cannot discuss music and the meaning life over a good bottle of wine. They can’t accompany you to the movies or a restaurant opening. They can’t be your date to a wedding.
But they can fill a part of life that you might not ever knew needed filling in the first place. And they will grow your patience and understanding of the world by an infinite degree. And they will walk back into the room and love you, even at your worst, even when you have yelled at them at the top of your lungs because your stupid human temper is faulty and infallible and a little pee on the carpet sent you into a mad rage.
They are wiser than us, smarter than us even if their instincts and their needs more basic than ours. They live shorter but maybe fuller lives. They worry less. They love without question. They don’t have to wear pants to go outside. [Don't underestimate the power in this one.]
My friend rescued his puppy from a horrific situation several years ago and has been the light of his life ever since. And last night, they found out that his puppy is dying of an incurable form of cancer. The thing is, there isn’t any grand lesson to be learned in this story because it’s just fucking heartbreaking and it makes me cry every damn time I think about it. But it does make me consider the amazing power these animals bring to our lives. This power they bring without words. Without anything really, except love.
And I do think there is something there. Something bigger that I can’t quite grasp.
I will always remember your story, sweet boy.
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
There is a place where the sidewalk ends
And before the street begins,
And there the grass grows soft and white,
And there the sun burns crimson bright,
And there the moon-bird rests from his flight
To cool in the peppermint wind.
Let us leave this place where the smoke blows black
And the dark street winds and bends.
Past the pits where the asphalt flowers grow
We shall walk with a walk that is measured and slow,
And watch where the chalk-white arrows go
To the place where the sidewalk ends.
Yes we’ll walk with a walk that is measured and slow,
And we’ll go where the chalk-white arrows go,
For the children, they mark, and the children, they know
The place where the sidewalk ends.
Such a beautiful tribute. I wish you could have met him.