Man's Best Friend

Man’s Best Friend

I had a dream last night that we decided to get a dog.  A new dog.  We looked at each other and said, “Yes, we are ready.  Let’s go ahead and do it.” 

Here’s the problem:  last summer we had to watch the suffering and passing of another canine.  She was beloved; that kind, brilliant brindle half-lab-half-boxer Anastasia, who was originally (in 2002) our son Brendan’s rescue puppy.  Now Brendan and Anastasia are both gone, and the fresh grief of this is almost unbearable. 

When we fall in love with a dog, we know we will not have him forever; dog’s lives are short.  But that knowledge only reminds us that human lives are short as well.  Philosophical types may say that is good for us; to be reminded of that fact which we all try not to think about most of the time.  “Oh, very young, what will you leave us this time?  You’re only dancing on this earth for a short while.” (to lift poetry from Cat Stevens, now a Muslim with a different name).  Yes, I prefer to not think on this as well, especially since my son died just after his 30^th birthday….so very young.  Can I possibly live through the short life of another dog? 

My heart is not that strong, and here is how I know:  In my dream, we got a big fluffy golden retriever.  And then that animal began to suffer, dying.  The pain was fresh.  I awakened before the end.

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