This past week Best was as sick as I’ve ever seen him. I didn’t sleep much; instead I watched his every move. What was heartbreaking is that this dog with seemingly boundless energy didn’t move much at all. Worse still was that I was responsible for his condition. For over a week I had been slowing adding a new food into his diet; it was a fresh, custom blend that promised to be suitable even for human consumption. I assumed Best was adjusting and that his digestive discomfort would ease. It did not; in fact, it got much worse. Thankfully with excellent vet care and time, he is fully recovered. Through all of this, I never saw anything but complete trust and love in his eyes. What I deserved was for him to lose faith in me and to feel considerable doubt in my guardianship. It doesn’t take Best becoming very ill for me to realize that people will never be worthy of dogs’ devotion, but it sure was a humbling reminder.
The dogs we bring into our lives are at our mercy for everything: the amount of freedom they enjoy, when they eat, when they relieve themselves, how much attention they receive. They wait on us to come home from work; they wait for us to have time for play; they wait to be loved. And while many times we give them what is left over after everything and everyone else take priority, they give us their all. While our focus is on pursuing careers, money, or the enviable life, our dogs are steadfastly waiting, ready to adore us in spite of our shortcomings and imperfection. To them, we are enough and we are perfect.
As a group, we humans are not quick learners. All of us can call to mind people we’ve lost, sometimes in the most sudden and unexpected of ways. It stops us cold when we learn of someone’s passing; we shake our heads and utter phrases about how brief life is and platitudes about not taking even a day for granted. I’ve been around dogs for decades and the inner workings of their minds are still mysterious to me, but what I feel almost positive about is that they don’t expend too much energy on regretting lost opportunities or wishing they’d focused on one thing over another. They live every day flat out, loving with all their might, eating without fear of an extra pound or two, and racing toward any adventure on which we invite them. I would bet every penny to my name that one day in the distant future when Best takes his last breath that he’ll not wish he’d loved me better or rolled in just one more patch of stinky earth because in life he never puts off for later the things he knows are important.
In more ways than I can count, dogs make me a better person. Or they would if I were a better student. Best seems most at peace when he can stretch out over my feet and nap; if I shift in my seat or cough, he comes to attention, staring intently until I tell him all is well. His habit after chasing the last piece of kibble around his bowl at mealtime is to stick his wet nose to my face and wag his tail, letting me know that he’s appreciative. He’s seen me dressed in my finest and he’s seen me covered in mud and smelling like a goat, and his love doesn’t waiver. Never once has he emitted “Gotta go, bigger name on the other line” vibes.
It’s a reality that the circle of people who know us inside out and accept us all the same is relatively small. The number of people in whom we can place our trust no matter what seems to grow smaller with the passing of time. My wish for this day, as it is all others, is for the wisdom to waste not even a moment in the pursuit of that which I shouldn’t and to be a person who loves as purely as my dog.
PartWolf 