My hope for humanity is that everyone will know the love of a dog
Once you do, you'll understand what I'm talking about...and the world will be a better, kinder, and more compassionate place
Happiness is a warm puppy.
Charles M. Schulz
A dog is the only thing on earth that loves you more than he loves himself.
Josh Billings
I wasn’t really a dog person until Erin talked me into bringing Magnus home. Don’t get me wrong, I loved dogs, but I’d never had one since I was in high school. Ever since then, I’ve welcomed a parade of cats into my life because they fit my lifestyle.
Cats are easy. Give them food and water, clean their litter box every day or two, and they’re good to go. It’s easy to leave home for two or three days without worrying too much. You can’t do that with a dog. They’re a day-to-day responsibility, like one step below having a child…and I liked being irresponsible.
Sure, if things were different, having a dog in my life would’ve been fun. But they weren’t, so I stuck with cats, and I was perfectly happy. Erin worked on me for a couple of years before I (inevitably…she has a way of doing that to me) broke me down. Of course, I’m not sure I put up much of a fight, though I remained unsure about the commitment of having a dog.
Then we brought Magnus home, and now I can’t remember what life was like before him. He’s part of virtually everything we do at home. He sits on the couch with us while we’re watching TV. He sleeps with us. Some mornings, he’ll wake me up by licking my head. It’s weird, but there are worse ways to wake up.
What’s odd are mornings like today, when Magnus is missing Erin, who’s out of town on a business trip, and so he decided to lick my head at 2am.
I remember the first time we took him to the beach with us. We’d only had him for a few weeks, and we decided to take him with us for a weekend at a pet-friendly hotel in Long Beach, WA. When we decided to go for a walk on the beach, we had him on his leash, but part of the reason we’d brought him with us was to determine how well he’d bonded with us.
So, nervous as we were, we both took a deep breath, and I let Magnus off his leash. Almost immediately, he took off, as if, like my Dad used to say, someone had shoved a rocket up his butt.
He sprinted as if his life depended on it. It was shocking how fast he could move and how long he could keep going. He ran…and ran…and ran….until he was close to a half-mile down the beach and all we could see was a tiny dog-shaped dot. Suddenly, he came to a stop, turned around, and looked at us. We couldn’t tell much from that far away, but it looked like he was having a blast.
Magnus stood in place for a moment. Then we called him…and he sprinted back towards us, every bit as fast as he’d left us. I remember thinking that I wasn’t sure I’d ever seen something that small move so fast. He flew past us, coming to a stop probably 30 yards away, his tongue hanging out and a look of pure joy on his face.
I offered him a treat, and he came bounding enthusiastically back to claim it…and we knew then that we were a family. We sent him flying back down the beach a couple more times before we went back to our hotel room, where he promptly slept the afternoon away. We’d worn him out, but we’d learned that he knew who his people were.
Now when one of us comes home, Magnus goes bonkers. He sits on the corner of our living room couch by the front door window, and his excitement when one of us returns is a joy to watch. He knows the sound of our cars and recognizes each one as it pulls up either in front of the house or in the driveway.
It’s been the same way since we brought him home more than eight years ago. He’s 11 now and moves a bit more slowly (who among us doesn’t?), but yesterday, when Erin opened the front and Magnus came out to greet me, he sprinted out with the same joy and excitement he’s always had.
Monday, I watched Jon Stewart talked about his family saying goodbye to their dog. I’m posting the video because there’s no way I can find the words to do it justice. What you see is a man talking about losing a family member, and for most of us fortunate enough to have a dog, you’ll understand, because that’s what they are- a family member.
If this video doesn’t move you to tears, you might want to have your humanity checked….
Dipper may have had only 75% of his allotment of legs, but he had, and still has, 100% of Jon Stewart’s heart. That’s what dogs will do to you. When you first see them, you might think, “How can a scuzzy little furball be such a big deal?”
Then, before you know it, he/she is greeting you at the front do like you’re a conquering hero. They curl up in your lap while you’re watching TV. They look at you with a pure and unaffected love like no human ever has or will. When you feel down, they nuzzle up next to you, because they know…they KNOW something’s off and they do what they can to help.
Perhaps you’ll start out having your new friend sleep in a crate, because everything you’ve ever read says don’t let a dog sleep with you. Then, before you even recall what happened, there’s a dog curled up in your bed with you, and it feels like the best thing ever.
But even the goodest boys survive for 10-15 years, maybe 20 if we’re incredibly fortunate. That means they have only a very short time to share themselves with us. They have a limited window to teach the lessons they’re sent to teach us, the lessons that, if we’re fortunate and receptive, we’ll learn and take to heart.
Most of those lessons are about love. Dogs are the only sentient beings who will love their people more than they love themselves. You’ll notice that I’m reluctant to say “owners.” Sure, in legal terms, we may “own” a dog, just as we may “rescue” a dog. We “own” Magnus, and he’s a “rescue,” but after eight-plus years, I’m no longer sure who “owns” or who’s “rescued” whom.
Erin and I are fond of telling Magnus that he had only one job. All we ask of him is that he live forever…or at least one day longer than we do. Because the thought of a life without him in it is more than we want to contemplate…and yet we know that day will come. He’s 11 now (and Chiweenies can live to be 17-19), and there’s a lot more white in his face than their used to be. The vet thinks he may have the beginning of cataracts, but she can’t be certain just yet.
His steps aren’t quite as sure as they used to be and he doesn’t fly off the back deck with the same alacrity and devil-may-care sangfroid he used to, but I can relate.
Ain’t none of us getting any younger.
Yes, there was a time when I wasn’t sure that I had room for a dog in my life. I’m grateful to have let Erin and Magnus prove me wrong. I know Erin and I had a life before Magnus, but it’s hard to remember, because it seems now as if most of our memories include a dog. From the day I let him off the leash at Long Beach and watched him tear off down the moist low-tide sand, holding my breath until he turned around and sprinted back to us, until today, Magnus has always been there.
And baby makes three.
Magnus has made me a better, kinder, and more compassionate person. He’s taught me what unconditional love really means. I thought I understood the concept before…but I get it, I mean really get it, now. He’s been a good teacher, a wonderful companion, and sometime a decent alarm clock, though waking up to a wet tongue sloshing across my bald head can be exceedingly weird way to regain consciousness.
Many of us have lost a pet, so we know that feeling of loss. We know how much it hurts to lose a family member- and pets ARE family members. I joke about Magnus being “the son I never had,” but it’s also NOT a joke.
‘Course, I’d hope that no son would ever pee on the bedroom carpet or take a dump in my baseroom office, but sometimes you have to take the good with the bad, right?
Dogs are amazing, because they’re part magic and all love. They come into our lives, love us like nothing else ever has or will, and then leave far too soon. But that’s the nature of love, isn’t it? And you have to be willing to lose it in order to experience it.
Perhaps that’s the greatest lesson dogs can teach us. Love doesn’t last forever. Sometimes it doesn’t last nearly long enough, but you have to be willing to jump in and take that risk not knowing what the other side might look like.
Love requires courage. Courage requires being willing to live in the moment. And the willingness to live in the moment means giving up control over what comes next.
Erin and I are going on our ninth year with Magnus. We hope there will be many more, but you never know. All you can do is live in the moment. We can enjoy Magnus now and know that the future, whatever it will be, is out of our control.
Perhaps Magnus will live forever…but probably not. We have no control over that, and so I’ll cherish whatever time we have, because our lives (I think I can speak for Erin here) have been significantly richer for his being part of them.
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