It's hard to imagine our world without Stuart. That's ironic because 15 years ago, it wouldn't have been hard to imagine our world with Stuart.
But he's getting to the age where you don't buy dog food in bulk. And it's time to start thinking about nature's course -- even though there is that nagging hope that somehow he will be the exception to life's nonnegotiable rule.
Neither my husband nor I had a dog growing up. The closest thing to a pet in the home of my fastidious single mother were dust bunnies. I used to name them. My husband grew up in an apartment in the Bronx so small that his bedroom was a hallway. Not much floor space for a four-legged friend.
Also, I could never stop thinking that somewhere deep in the recesses of a dog's wolf-mind was just the tiniest inclination to run me down in the back yard and drag me off to share with the pack.
Stuart came to us through the single-minded lobbying of a very determined little girl. She said we could never really be a family unless we had a dog. She had us at "family."
I thought we might ease our way in with a nice little Shih Tzu or maybe a Pomeranian, to which my husband responded: "Might as well just get a hamster." So we went the other way -- yellow lab, all 95 pounds of him.
Our Stuart experience went so well that we doubled down with another yellow lab, Polly. When Polly came into our lives, Stuart was starting to slow down from a life that never moved all that fast to begin with. In the drive department, let's just say that if it was Stuart instead of Lassie, Timmy would still be in the mine shaft.
Polly, by comparison, is a crackling wire. She skidded across the hard wood floor and into our lives, a bundle of brains and kinetic disobedience. Stuart was smitten from the start. No amount of ear-pulling, tail biting or stealth attacks while he was fast asleep could shake his patient affection. He watched, wagging his big yellow tail, as she would gobble down his food. I look at them curled up together in a shaft of afternoon sunlight coming through the back door, I think about Stuart's hour-glass, and I wonder: what is it about dogs? They careen through our lives knocking things over, chewing things up and creating unpleasant smells, trails of mud and a level of confusion unknown to canine-free environments.
Before I had them, I would watch other dog owners and wonder: who signs on for this? It's still a good question. I know about the studies that say dogs lower blood pressure. But I doubt any doctor would prescribe beta-blockers and a lap dog. I know about their supposed healing powers. But neither one of ours has had a measurable effect on flu season. I know about their unconditional love. But give them a month in the home of someone else who loves them, and the unconditional love would prove transferable.
My 14-year study of one family suggests something else. I've observed us before and after canine arrival. And what I see is the chance to give yourselves fully and without reservation to the care of another creature. Making them feel safe and happy makes us feel safe and happy.
There is some scientific evidence. It's called biophilia -- an oddly scary term for an interesting idea: we are genetically programmed to interact with nature. It's an instinctive search for connection with other living things. It's a connection that works quite nicely for dogs.
I have a friend who told me about being propped up in bed, he and his wife watching the weatherman warn of below zero temperatures -- and the need to make sure that all pets are safely indoors. He looked down at their 85 pound golden retriever, stretched out in his usual place between them, on his back, snoring, and said "Do you think he's going to be Ok?"
It's wonderful what dogs do for us. But the best part might be what they let us do for them.
This first appeared on HelloGiggles.
Follow Dr. Peggy Drexler on Twitter: www.twitter.com/drpeggydrexler
Adopt, don't shop. spay/neuter.
Arooh!! (that's Happy Thanksgiving in hound dog).
He greeted me EVERY morning. "You're awake!" He didn't want pets, he wanted to pet me. He'd walk around, and across and over me, purring madly, rubbing against my head and hand. Wouldn't sit down or lie at my side, "I'm so glad you're back, I missed you." He taught me the finer points of feline fetch: it was important that he couldn't see where it landed, the fun was in the hunt. (The others never quite got the point). He followed me from room to room, and preferred nature programs on tv. He would escape occasionally, and knew to call back when I went looking for him. "I'm here! Come get me."
He had amber eyes, an expressive voice he used to hold conversations, and fur so soft, fine and thick chinchillas would have been envious.
He died at eleven. I still miss you, Max.
And I still miss him, too.
I've had many wonderful cats and dogs over the years. I miss them all.
My latest crew? They drive me crazy; but I can't help loving them.
I'm glad you have your new Buddy.
But, at the moment, my biggest worry is whether the two new cats can assimilate into my household. Will they ever understand 'dog language' and realize my Belgian Terv is just trying to play?
Thanks for the wonderful article - and the reminder of what is truly important.
I can assure you the sharp edges of your grief will soften in time. And the wonderful memories will be with you forever.
As Shirley Chong has said often. 'the only thing bad about dogs is that they don't live long enough.' (That applies to cats, too.)
Just remember that your final duty is to exchange their pain for your own.
And don't forget to love again.
When your girl gets her 'wings' and flies away, up into that sky that she so loves, you will be lonely; pick a star and watch it glow in the evenings. That will be your girl watching over you.
Norman, my daughter's blind greyhound broke his leg on Friday and bone cancer was discovered. He went peacefully and joined our "tribe" that went on before. We celebrated his Norman's life that night.
The blindness never slowed him down. He ran; he swam; he lived and loved.He got a guide dog, Marie Laveau, when he was 4. Marie was stranded during hurricane Katrina and ended up in Lawton, Oklahoma. She watched over Norman's every move and helped him navigate new stairs and doors when the family moved to Ft. Hood.
Critters. com is a great website to go when you're feeling the light has gone out of your world. Members create memorials and share fond memories and photographs. My girl even has her own Bob Dylan page. She listened to him for 7 years and I think she hears him now.
"...is the chance to give yourselves fully and without reservation to the care of another creature. Making them feel safe and happy makes us feel safe and happy..."
Oh yes indeed...!
Nice article and OMG, Dr. Drex!.... Methinks you are ready for the late Paul Shepard's "Nature and Madness" on how the stripping away of our interaction with nature/cosmos is a recipe for insanity. If your loved ones are following this thread, a recommendation for the holiday reading list.
And isn't it nice to be missed whether you have gone to Guatemala or taken out the garbage? No one is happier to greet you every moment of every day
Still, cats are uniquely wonderful creatures, and I understand your feelings.
Love is love.