Sometimes you just want to cry. And it feels so good to do so...
It’s difficult to lose a family member whom you have grown to love. I’m talking about a family member with four legs . . . or more accurate yet, four paws.
I want to dedicate today’s column to every person who has loved a dog as a family member.
A puppy dog enters our life with a sloppy wet pink tongue and our world lights up. The joy, the excitement, the outpouring of love from a puppy’s view of the world brings life into our world. It is impossible to not see the world in a wonderful way when you feel warm puppy breath against your face.
Every puppy who lives long enough eventually moves from “puppyhood” to “doghood.” And every dog that lives long enough grows old. And, despite the blessings of living many years, life looks different to a dog at the tail end.
Every dog who lives his life expectancy leaves a different world than he was born into. The family that enjoyed puppyhood is in a different season than the family that experiences the senior years.
One of the most emotional movies ever is the 2008 movie “Marley & Me” starring Owen Wilson and Jennifer Aniston. Newly married, they chose to add a yellow Labrador retriever puppy to their family and named him Marley.
The movie covers the 14 years of Marley’s life and his role in the up and down experiences of a family’s life. He was there for this family every step of the way. If you aren’t emotional when the family says goodbye to Marley, you’ve never loved a dog.
Bottom line, life happens. We don’t know what may be around the next bend, but we know we have a family member who will be there with us to celebrate and to mourn. That is, as long as the family member can hang on for us.
My wife and I have the best dog we have ever had, a little black and white Boston Terrier. We named him “Buddy McGee” back in 2010 when he clumsily came bounding into our lives. I’ve always said he is 90% tongue with a body wrapped around it. It’s virtually impossible to cuddle with Buddy without getting a good “face lickin!”
When he entered our lives we had two children attending college and were at the start of our empty nest years. Each of the four of us were younger then. And so was Buddy. I became referred to as “Daddy” to Buddy and my wife as “Mommy.” I am not sure if this is proper, but it made sense when we worked together on raising a young puppy.
Buddy, my wife, and I have experienced life together for over ten years, including celebrations of joy and tears of depression. That is a sixth of our lives.
Buddy hops in the car with us and travels, taking in every sight he can riding “shot gun.” He goes for long walks with us and has become popular on the walking trail. He has run five miles with me regularly often pulling me to run faster.
He watches television with us and loves us tossing him popcorn. He has chewed up many frisbees after tiring out playing fetch and he has possibly set a record for begging for treats. I do believe he has been spoiled.
He is the smartest dog we’ve ever had. He does the usual dog tricks of sit, lay down, and speak. But he also shakes, crawls, dances, howls, and most uniquely he plays the piano. Yes, he will jump on the piano bench and hit the keys with his front paws. He has trained us well. If he wants a treat, he doesn’t need to wait for us to be ready to give him one, he just plays a song and we are trained to respond by giving him a treat.
Well, one thing about age is that it is not reversible. Every one of you reading this is the oldest you have ever been right now. There are conditions that we acquire with age that will never leave us. It doesn’t matter how good the medical profession is, physical conditions attach to us and then become something we just need to accept and live with. Giving up is not an option.
Buddy doesn’t look at us with his head straight anymore. His cute “head cocked questioning look” he has given us over ten years when he is trying so hard to understand what we are saying to him is now his standard view of the world. He is unable to hold his head straight because of a respiratory issue.
The black hair around his eyes has turned gray. He can’t jump up onto our bed any more. It used to be his favorite place to sleep when we were gone. The stairway to the second floor that he bounced up countless times his entire life is now an obstacle he needs to overcome.
We are not sure how well he hears. His vision and his smell seem to still be sharp, but he is not the dog he was three months ago. His view of the world has changed and is continuing to change.
Seasons come and seasons go. It is hard to choose when an animal’s quality of life is gone to the degree that is time to put the family member down. It is a decision that is wrought with much emotion and guilt.
Regardless of the challenges of each day, our Buddy still brings joy to us throughout our days. He is still with us, he is not living in pain, and he still has quality of life. It is just a matter of time before this will change and we will be forced to make a decision we don’t want to even think about.
It is what age does to each of us.
My challenge to you today is to love your dog like crazy. Your dog will love you back. Do something special for you four legged family member today. Celebrate the days you have with your puppy, regardless of his age.
Recognize the tears at the end of his life will be worth the journey you have traveled together. If you live life well it will include many tearful experiences. I believe that is why God gave us tears. When it is time to cry, bawl like a baby until there is nothing left within you.
But that is in a future you can’t control. Tomorrow can wait, celebrate the time you have today.
Just a thought...
Rick Kraft is a motivational speaker, a syndicated columnist, a published author, and an attorney. To submit comments, contributions, or ideas, e-mail to rkraft@kraftlawfirm.org or write to P.O. Box 850, Roswell, New Mexico, 88202 - 0850.
