When a dog wags his tail, the whole world knows his intention: to engage and to share all expressions of joy, to find a space of communion between.
They are our link to paradise, reminding us of our ability to connect. And, knowing not these roots of injustice – finding depth within the breath, and warmth against the light.
In these moments, they offer their unbridled exuberance; a joie de vivre in a selfless journey.
They are indeed the angels who walk amongst us. They are our points of light, our guideposts and stars.
I watched a small pack of puppies playing inside a fenced yard the other day. The morning was still somewhat overcast; the evening rain having left its mark in pockets of icy-cold discouragement.
Yet, nothing could dissuade their course; nor, quell the ‘symphony’ of their amusements.
Over and back they raced, through the patched fields of elderberry and clover. Stopping only to admire the workings of a clockwise turning mechanical rooster perched 15 feet from ground.
And when the heftiest of ample-bellied n’er do wells splashed there were no admonishments of his ‘social blunder’. Instead only the yip-yap yammerings of their encouragement. And, delivering their warning:
“Turn away, turn away!! Adventures not for feint of heart!!”
Oh, to know the courage effected through fattened pads – and the ease by which they greet their day.
And, who are we to judge their play? How arrogant, we humans, to consider luxury a better measure of peace.
Than that of a snoozing pup; their dreams, now a mirror yielding the greater comforts of soul.
There was a scratching at my door this morning. Softly, at first–as if asking permission–then on to a tempered urgency.
As the fog of morning sleep lifted, I remembered. I remembered the deep aching into my bones and the searing pain at the base of my neck. I remembered of the stack of dishes still left unwashed in the sink, and my residual irritation at a neighbor’s late night ‘gathering’.
And, then?
I remembered gently closing my door on this beautiful little creature who only wanted to show his love. “Not tonight, sweetheart — Mommy needs her rest,” I said.
He’d slept there all night, waiting at the door–listening intently for any shifting noise, hoping he might soon be of service.
There are those who believe dogs hold no bonds; that they exist in life, without emotion.
Such a foolish lot–and, just who are they to speak to the charity of a dog’s love?
As I opened the door, he leapt straight into my arms–never mind that I’d missed his cue. That the floor was cold and mostly uninviting. Or, that the raucousness from two fences over was frightening at its best.
Oh, my darlings, no. For a dog’s love is truly without bounds. My goodness, how we might learn a thing or two.
To love, in spite of a once crippling loss. To love, at the risk of being wounded again. To love, never knowing what may be returned.
To love, just simply to love.
That’s the true heart of the lesson, is it not? To have courage enough to always love again.
Just a little something to consider on this day, my darlings ~ a reminder that true love manifests when the heart is left to open.
I had the most beautiful Great Dane – her name was Storm. All black with a single patch of white to her chest, and speckled drops upon her toes.
She was the matriarch of this family (even on those days when I would stubbornly insist otherwise).
Oh, and she certainly watched over my little ones. Whether a scraped knee, upset tummy, or a lofty ‘bonk’ to the head – there she was, graciously caring, as only a true “Mama Bear” could.
And, when Nudnick arrived a sweet, scared little pup – she literally curled her ‘arms’ around him to help keep him warm.
Oh, and she was right there to see me through even the darkest of my times. Through heartbreak, and many surgeries – why?
Well, good dogs never ask why.
And, then one day – sadly, she suffered a massive brain hemorrhage. As I rushed her to the animal hospital, I could think of only one thing: “Please God, please not now..”
My daughter and I sat next to her on the floor in the waiting area. We wanted so very much to comfort her, but…our hearts were nearly overcome with grief.
At first, she turned to my daughter – placing heavy paw upon her lap. And then, she turned to look my way – and, offer the same to me.
Even in her last few moments, she gave her heart to me.
I couldn’t help but to think of dear, Nudnick — who, for years, had been Storm’s little shadow.
I thought, perhaps, toys and treats might help to ease his pain. But, with each treat – Nudnick would quickly scurry away; racing back to get a little more.
When I walked into the kitchen – I couldn’t believe what I found. You see, as much as dear Nudnick loved his treats – he wanted to share them with someone he loved so much more.
The photo is of Storm’s doggie bowl and *all* of Nudnick’s favorite treats.
[blockquote source=”Anne Lamott”]“Laughter is carbonated holiness.”[/blockquote]
Oh my dears, I saw the most peculiar site the other day. A small parade was held in our community, and in order to celebrate Memorial Day.
Leading the procession – bright red firetrucks with sirens blaring, heralding the achievements of our nation’s greatest veterans.
Little ones chased, as handfuls of candy were strewn through the air ~ a special treat from their most beloved heroes.
A local marching band bridged with a rat-ta-tat-tat, as the final procession made ready for their ‘review.’ It was a group of funny-hatted Shriners, weaving along in their miniature cars.
For those who aren’t familiar, the Shriners have long graced our community parades – raising money and providing hope to children very much in need. Their tireless dedication to service is truly remarkable.
Likewise, they are always such fun to watch. And this year…would be no exception.
The Unsuspecting Shriner.
As the last of the miniature cars banked its final turn, a resounding WROOF broke free from the crowd. Hanging on for dear life at the end of the ‘great beasts’ leash, was a little boy – with feet flying roughly 20 inches from the ground.
“STOP,” he cried out – but, to no avail as the lumbering giant continued his puppy ‘reign of terror.’
“Oh, this won’t end well,” I thought to myself – knowing the top speed of a Shriner car was just barely 10 miles per hour.
Frantic, the old man swerved his car this way and that, all in a desperate attempt to avoid this certain path of destruction.
Of course, everyonefelt this to be part of the ‘show’ – that is, until the great beast took one final lunge through the air…
And, into the ‘just barely big enough’ front seat of the miniature car.
It seems, this little pup wasn’t evil at all – he just wanted to go for a ride.
I had to laugh when I realized the irony, of both driver and dog wanting the very same thing – to feel a sense of unbridled joy, though approaching it in vastly different ways.
On one hand, there was a frightened old man desperately trying to avoid the upset a certain chaos might bring, and…on the other hand, an over-sized fluff of ‘not knowing’ mind, dogmatically chasing his dream.
And though, perhaps the ill-mannered beast might have better tailored his approach – I must say, I do admire his puppy-hearted carpe diem.
There is sorrow enough in the natural way
From men and women to fill our day;
But when we are certain of sorrow in store,
Why do we always arrange for more?
Brothers and sisters I bid you beware
Of giving your heart to a dog to tear.
Buy a pup and your money will buy
Love unflinching that cannot lie–
Perfect passion and worship fed
By a kick in the ribs or a pat on the head.
Nevertheless it is hardly fair
To risk your heart for a dog to tear.
When the fourteen years that nature permits
Are closing in asthma or tumors or fits
And the vet’s unspoken prescription runs
To lethal chambers, or loaded guns.
Then you will find–its your own affair
But–you’ve given your heart to a dog to tear.
When the body that lived at your single will
When the whimper of welcome is stilled (how still!)
When the spirit that answered your every mood
Is gone–wherever it goes–for good,
You still discover how much you care
And will give your heart to a dog to tear.
We’ve sorrow enough in the natural way
When it comes to burying Christian clay.
Our loves are not given, but only lent,
At compound interest of cent per cent.
Though it is not always the case, I believe,
That the longer we’ve kept ’em the more do we grieve;
For when debts are payable, right or wrong,
A short time loan is as bad as a long–
So why in Heaven (before we are there)
Should we give our hearts to a dog to tear?
