 |
| Odie |
What can I say? If you have never had a dog who loved you unconditionally, you won’t know what I am talking about here. There is something special about the unquestioning love and devotion a dog gives to his person. It’s a permanent thing, which is what makes it so amazing. It’s there when you are showering attention on him. It’s there even when you have just been a jerk and yelled at the poor creature because you were really mad at your spouse. It’s there when all he wants is for you to throw his ball, but you just “aren’t in the mood.” He never holds a grudge either.
Humans, in contrast, remember every slight, every disappointment, every cross word. It may be six months later when in the heat of a totally unrelated argument, your spouse throws in something from the past for good measure. “What,” you say, “You want to bring that up again?” “You bet I do,” they reply through clenched teeth. Your dog would never dream of being so petty.
Have you ever known a human who hung on your every word? Who could look at you adoringly for hours while laying with his head in your lap? When was the last time your human companion waited to take their cue from you as to how the day would go? If you have experienced this with someone we have a name for it- it’s called love addiction: an obsessive emotional attachment to another to avoid separation anxiety and loneliness. Does Fatal Attraction ring a bell?
Your dog has no neurotic need for you to give them their identity, they are very content with just being a mutt. They don’t require constant reassurance that you love only them or that they need you to complete them. All they want is to be able to love you and take whatever you choose to give back to them in return. A biscuit will do nicely. I scratch behind the ears. A ride in the backseat of the car while you run around town cursing other drivers and complaining about the rain. They take it all in stride, hanging their head out the window trying to catch the wind as it swooshes by.
As I get older and find I can’t do as much as I once did, I find myself indulging in self- pity from time to time. A bad knee makes it painful to climb stairs, my stamina is not what it once was, my eyesight is no longer 20/20… Odie too was winding down. His sight was going and he was deaf. He had trouble controlling his balder and had to wear doggie diapers. But he never whined. He never sat around feeling sorry for himself. It took only a look from us at the door for him to know he could come along and his day was made.
We could learn a lot from our four-footed friends. All of us die. The journey can be short or long. It’s how we live it that counts. Odie was determined to taste every one of time’s moments. Swallow. Taste the next. He died at 20 (140 in dog years). He didn’t just stagger on in the end – he was still tasting life. Every morsel he could get of it before he went blissfully to sleep. I will think of him next time I am temped not to savor a day or an hour or a moment.
