I think one of the hardest things in life to find is a true friend. I
suspect that’s why dogs exist. If you can’t find a human friend, just get a
dog.
My mother named her dog Dodger. Since my name is Roger, I think it was
for the purposes of messing with me. In conversations, she would occasionally
refer to me as Dodger, apologize, and then do it again. “Dodger, please pass
the Mayo. Oh, I’m sorry Rog, I meant Roger, really.” Then she would laugh
uncontrollably.
When Dodger died she was cremated and her ashes were secretly placed in
the family grave, where Mom is buried. Her husband, her third, survived her,
and was left with the responsibility of placing the names on the gravestone,
including his own. For kicks, he got the funeral people to put Dodger’s name on
the stone, only the poor man’s spelling was so bad the stone now reads “Doger.”
When I saw it I was caught between crying and laughing. In any case, the deed
was done, and now that Mom’s husband also passed some time ago, all three names
are on the stone, and all three urns are underground sharing a nice windswept
view.
Mom loved that dog. I would go to her house for lunch and the next thing
I knew the dog was up on the table sniffing my liverwurst sandwich. I warned Mom
many times that if that dog touched my grub I would bite the dog. I also
complained about hygiene. Dogs on the table? C’mon Ma!
It goes without saying she loved the dog more than my idea of lunch
etiquette and I was forced to dine with a mutt sitting next to my plate. Pretty
weird. But, in truth, I understood.
Our animals are loved dearly. I come across people who prefer their
animal over their spouse, or so they say. Dogs are not judgmental, to say the
least, and they won’t hog the TV channel changer, and they would never take the
last cup of coffee or forget to replace the toilet tissue roll.
Having an animal around the house beats heavy drinking. An animal is
therapy. You can have the worst day of your life at work and when you arrive
home, there’s the dog panting at you like a lost lover.
I once heard a dog trainer say dogs should only receive commands in
German, which I thought was a strange idea. What if you don’t speak the lingo?
In fact, dogs seem to understand every language since they all receive love in
the language of the land in which they live. So dogs in France hear French, and dogs in Spain
Dogs are more tolerant than virtually any creature on the planet. Hitler
had dogs, so I rest my case.
Our family once consisted of two cats and a dog. The group got along
famously once the dog realized she was not in charge. That job belonged to the
black cat, Eliza, while her smaller buddy, a long-haired varmint named Scully,
spent her time rubbing against the dog. Both cats are now buried in Texas
The dog used to jump into our big pool. One day she must have jumped in
15 times. In and out, in and out. It was quite entertaining. Her pool jumping
declined with the passing years.
The dog used to wait until I got home from work and there she was every
day, rain or shine, ready to greet and meet. Dogs are diplomatic that way,
although I believe it’s just a ruse to get extra food.
The dog and I went to obedience class long ago and neither of us did
well, although until she went deaf, she sat, stayed and responded when called.
Dogs get into our bones and become members of our families. At big
family gatherings, the dog is somewhere. Someone is always messing with the
dog, especially kids and the older the dog gets the more you have to monitor
things so the dog isn’t harassed. That’s your job as the dog’s buddy and the
dog understands this.
Someone in the family always claims ownership of the dog. “Pepper is
Bob’s boy,” a wife might say, although Pepper just has Bob wrapped around his
finger. Dogs are tricksters. Dogs are lovable, but they are also devious. They
would make better politicians than the current crop we’ve got running the show.
The dog is all things to all members of the family and that’s that. Ask the dog
who “owns” him and he’ll just smile as if you are out of your mind.
Our dog spends evenings chasing popcorn I give her when we make a batch.
This is why our rugs crunch when visitors come by. I’ve seen the dog spend a
while reaching under the couch for a kernel that is just out of reach as though
she’s starving. She’s hardly starving. She eats better than I do and more
regularly. She pulls this under-the- couch gesture so I feel sorry for her. She
knows I will relent and lift the couch so she can munch anew. It’s like a
buffet under that couch.
Dogs sense things and humans have a way of communicating tension and
worry and all the rest of the things that haunt us. The dog has come over to me
many times unbidden just when my personal world seemed to be spinning out of
control. You worry over money, about the future, about putting food on the
table and keeping a roof over our heads and yet the dog shows up as though her
arrival is like some Hollywood production, the
cavalry arriving just in time to save the day. Animals just know when we are
beside ourselves. They ground us with grace, with a rub of a nose against our
knee.
After a brief illness, the dog collapsed Sunday on the kitchen floor.
Her labored breathing told me everything I needed to know. All I could do was
rub her back and I rubbed it until her breathing stopped. And then I rubbed her
some more as though I could collect her love and put it in a bank to use some
other time. Her life was over and she had left me. Even with family, I felt
stunningly alone.
I called the vet to make arrangements and when I heard that the dog
would be placed in a freezer for five days until picked up by the cremation
folks, I realized I could not let that happen to my friend. I understand why
these things are required, and vets are the best resource in these
circumstances, but I wasn’t going to leave her to strangers.
I
haven’t cried like that in my lifetime. I did not take the dog to the vet. I
made my own arrangements. I wanted her close to me. She was my friend. I loved
her very much. I will always miss her because she loved me and she went out of
her way to let me know. That is a heavenly achievement. You can be alone on
this planet, but if you have an animal who loves you, I believe you can get by.
I see homeless people with animals. The
dogs don’t seem unhappy.
My dog’s name is Emma, after Auntie Em from the Wizard of Oz. She is a
brown Lab with a bit of German shepherd in her, a big dog and she lived for 14
years. Although I was mad at her for getting old, she always took care of me. She
always loved me. She warmed my heart. Today, the cold world is a bit colder. I know she would not want to see me troubled
by her passing, so I am determined. I’ll just think of her forever sleeping peacefully
in the next room. That way she will remain a part of me—a friend for all time.
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