To err is human, to forgive canine.
Alexander Pope
Dogs are not our whole life, but they make our lives whole.
Roger Caras
No matter how many romantic relationships or close friendships you may have during your life, NO ONE- not even your mother- will love you with the singular, passionate devotion of a dog.
Of course, that declaration is hardly breaking news to anyone who’s ever been blessed to have a dog in their life for any length of time. Anyone fortunate enough to be owned by a dog (for that’s what the relationship truly is) Knows what true and unconditional love is. A dog is the only creature in the universe that can inspire humans to be more like them.
Erin and I have been fortunate to have had Magnus, a 19-pound, nine-year-old Chiweenie, in our lives for the past six years. So thoroughly has Magnus woven himself into the fabric of our lives that neither of us can recall what it was like not having him there. He greets us at the front door when we come home, runs around our backyard, watches TV, goes to the beach, and sleeps with us.
Who rescued who??
Truthfully, it’s Magnus’ house. We’re just fortunate enough to live here…and both of us are willingly under his spell. No one comes to the front door without him notifying us. I can tell by Magnus’ bark whether the person at the front door is a mail person, a delivery person, a neighbor, or Erin coming home. It’s like having a security system that you have to feed twice a day.
How thoroughly convinced am I that dogs are the highest form of life on the planet? So much so that in my book, I included a chapter arguing that this world would be a far better, kinder, and more compassionate place if everyone owned a dog. I could sprinkle a few quotes from the chapter through this essay, but as Erin cautions, quoting myself would be weird.
(SHAMELESS SELF-PROMOTION WARNING: Buy the book. You’ll understand.)
There are few things in life as pure as the unabashed joy and love of a dog just living its best life. There’s no plan, no agenda, no expectation. All they want is to be who they are. There’s no artifice, no self-delusion, and no expectation that you’ll be anything with them except exactly who you are. How many bipeds in your life can you say that about?
The sad thing is that dogs are only with us for a relatively short time. If we’re lucky, we may have 15 years. If we’re truly blessed, we might get 20, but that’s a rare blessing, indeed. Then again, most of us measure dog time not in terms of years but rather in memories and smiles.
Those of us who love dogs will watch a few cross the Rainbow Bridge during our lifetime. Losing a family member is always sad and tragic, but part of the grieving process is reaching that day when thinking of a lost loved one puts a smile on your face before a tear comes to your eye. That’s as true for four-legged family members as it is for humans.
Saying goodbye to a dog never gets easier, even though we may do it a few times. That said, great love and joy are seldom far removed from great pain and loss. You really can’t have one without the other because loving deeply means knowing that at some point, you’re going to have to say goodbye and feel as if your heart has been ripped apart.
I’m not thinking about that now, though, because I get to spend every day with a four-legged joy spreader. Magnus has an uncanny knack for shaking me out of a deep depression. He’s able to convince me that no matter how awful and ugly things might feel, all it takes is him licking the top of my head to reduce me to a giggling, incoherent puddle of joy.
No one has ever loved me like that. It’s an amazing thing…and I highly recommend it.