Dog People

One of the great injustices in life is that the average human lifespan is so much longer than that of the average dog. For those of us who cherish our canine companions, that means we will not only have to endure their passing, but also that we go into the relationship knowing that will eventually come to pass. They don’t, they live each day as though it is their only day — not like it might be their last, but like it’s the only day there is — the only one that matters. It is among the most profound gifts they give us, but it is among many, many others. If we, the so-called “dog-people,” are lucky, we will experience a few dogs who both grace our lives… and depart from them. Luck, however, is a two-edged sword, both edges are razor sharp. One side cuts deeply into our hearts, our souls and our lives, filling us with unequivocal, unconditional love; the other leaves the pain of their passing so unique it is difficult to describe. The sting of loss will fade over time, but their love never does.

“But what is grief, if not the perseverance of love.”

~ Vision, from Marvel’s WandaVision

Facebook, as much evil as it sews, is remarkably efficient in cataloguing my activity and recalling it as “memories” on a daily basis. In that respect, it only reproduces what I have put in, and much of that is absolutely worth remembering. Sometimes what is worth remembering is the “perseverance of love.” There have been a handful of really special dogs in my life, all lived out what would be considered long lives — for dogs. Facebook reminded me of two today. One passed on this day peacefully in her sleep nine years ago at the age of 15. Her name was Magic, a pound rescue black lab/Australian shepherd mix whose name fit her perfectly. The other, Bella, in this Facebook video, was just a pup 12 years ago today. She passed less than a year ago. Both of these dogs left paw prints in my heart; I feel them, still, persevering. The sting of their loss has faded, but their love remains — unequivocal, unconditional, eternal.

Now I have Möbius. He has not replaced Magic or Bella or any of the other dogs who have graced my life over my 59 years on this planet. He has added to them, he is among them, he is part of their pack. He lives every day like it’s the only day there is. He loves me unconditionally, he is always happy, his word is always full of optimism. However, the odds are that I will outlive him and one day, he, too, will have to leave me. He doesn’t know it, but I do. He still has a lesson for me — he has the tools to deal with that reality, to deal with all future possible calamity, uncertainty, whatever life might throw at me: Live today like it’s the only day — not like it’s my last, not like there is no tomorrow, and not like a dog without any need to plan for the future, but to enjoy what time I have and just live. Today. And love — like today is the only day there is.