The Very Best Friend You'll Ever Have

My heart is heavy tonight for a friend who lost a part of her family.  You see, someone hit and killed her dog.  And that someone didn't even have the decency to stop to see if he could help, or to tell them what he'd done.  That breaks my heart even more because it means that someone could not appreciate how much that dog might mean to someone's life.  How much a dog can be a part of a family.  So sad to know that there are people who have never felt the love of a pet.  If you've never had a dog put his head in your lap and comfort you through sickness, or sadness, or loss, then you cannot understand.  Let me paint you a picture. 

When I was just a baby, my uncle gave us a cat.  He was a beautiful grey Persian named Percy, and he grew up with me.  Even though Percy was an outside cat (See previous posts on country life; Daddy was having none of that "indoor cat" nonsense), he would never-the-less sneak in the house whenever the back door swung open.  To warm his toes, to grab some table scraps, and to visit me.  Percy was MY cat.  He knew it, and I guess I knew it from pretty early too.  If I was outside, Percy was close by. He waited with me for the bus most mornings, keeping an eye on me.  If I was inside, Percy would come to find me.  I can remember being sick and having Percy come in to check on me.  He would crawl up on the couch, lay on top of me, and peer at me, as if he knew just what was wrong.  And he'd curl up and watch over me as long as Mom would allow him to stay inside.  He was my first best friend.  He stuck by me.  When I cried.  When I was mad.  When I wanted to be alone.  He was there.  That cat stayed with me through my youth.  And then one day, he got old.  I know people think I'm crazy when I say this, but I know he knew I couldn't bear to see him die.  So one day, Percy just wandered away, and he never came back.  My best friend gave me the last thing he could - the gift of not having to see him die.

I suppose I inherited my love of animals from my Dad.  Although he was never as sentimental as I, I know he had a soft spot for four-legged creatures of all kinds.  He had a habit of bringing them home with him.  And he seldom ran them off when they wandered up to our house.  He didn't make a fuss about them, but they always knew they could trust him.  I can remember dogs who'd have nothing to do with anyone else, but came and lay at his feet, knowing he'd take care of them.  He took his evening walk with each of them following faithfully by his side.  He didn't make over them, but he always looked for them, always made sure they were accounted for, taken care off.  And when the worst happened, and they died, he always made sure they were buried with love and dignity, not cast aside.  For they had meaning in our world.

Daddy's last great friendship was with Trouble.  He found him at a flea market, the runt of the litter.  He brought him home, and we all lost our hearts to him.  He was a little dog with big feet, and a bigger heart.  He bounded through life with reckless enthusiasm.  He loved everyone he met.  He greeted you on two feet, the other two usually resting somewhere between your knees and your shoulders, depending on your height.  I can still see him as a little puppy, this little roll of red fur with big loving eyes.  I don't think I'd ever seen such a cute little mutt.  I was already grown, had moved out of the house.  But I did love that little dog.  He just seemed to have a heart big enough for us all.

As much as we all loved him, though, he was Daddy's dog.  When Dad retired, he spent alot of time walking back and forth to our farm, for exercise, and for the love of the walk.  And Trouble made that walk with him every day.  You could stand in the back yard and watch them, side by side, heading off for their walk.  Sometimes, he'd run ahead, but mostly, he walked in tandem with Dad, as if he, too, was glad for the silence and the friendship.  They were a pair, each growing older and set in their ways.  One day, I went to visit, and I realized that Trouble, somewhere along the way, had grown old.  His eyes were rimmed with grey, his gait slower, more pained.  But that loving gaze was the same.  He was always so happy to see his family.  He never missed an opportunity to show love.  He never made us feel guilty for not visiting often enough.  He was happy with what came his way.  When Mom and Dad moved to the city, Trouble stayed on the farm.  He was old, set in his ways, and not able to make the move.  But Daddy made the trip every day to visit him and feed him.  When the snow or sleet made the trip impossible for him, he sent my brother instead - Trouble would worry if no one came to visit.    As long as I live, I will never forget the sadness in my father's eyes the day he told me that Trouble had died.  It was the look of a man who had lost his best friend.  And in some ways, I think he had.

As I've grown up, I've made other friends along the way.  I've had cats and dogs throughout my life, and each have taught me something.  Each day, my cats and dogs bring me joy and love.  They are part of my family.  I am reminded of an email I got once -Everything I Need To Know I Learned From My Dog.  In some ways, that essay is true.  Never under-estimate an animal's ability to teach.  They have more soul, more depth, than most people I know.  I have been disappointed many times by people, but never by an animal.  We could all learn from a pet.  Be loyal.  Never pretend to be something you're not.  Curl up and care for the ones you love.  Delight in the simple joy of a long walk with a good friend.

Animals are these wonderful friends who come into our lives and make us a better version of ourselves.  They love us unconditionally, and ask for little in return.  It would be wrong not to give that back to them.  They are a part of our lives, a part of our hearts.  For those of us who let them, they make our world better.  And I feel a special sadness for those who have not been blessed with that bond.  My heart breaks tonight for Jammie - for her husband and little boy - and the love of a dog.