No Love Like Puppy Love

I cried recently over the passing of dog I never met. From his pictures you can see he was a noble companion. He had the air of an ancient and adored teddy bear. Careworn and all more lovely for it.

I am going to cry later today, possibly while writing this, over a dog I met only briefly many years ago. She was older than my son by two years and I remember when her human first got her.

I cry for dogs, and their people because the love of a dog is so pure and innocent and unconditional. The world needs as much as that as it can get. So, when a dog dies I feel sad.

I also cry because we usually do not get the luxury of having our Good Dogs just slip away into death on their favorite blanket. We cling to our dogs and keep them with us as long as we can. The dogs never seem to mind no matter how inconvenient living becomes.

In some ways I believe God does not intervene with dogs on purpose. Dogs give us so much it is fair that we take that walk with them.

In some ways it is a gift, that last goodbye, in others so painful. That final tail wag, so tired, but still trying to smile in that doggy way. 

To the last moment, the Good Dog wants their Person to be happy, to know they are loved & appreciated and they are grateful for every treat, every walk and belly rub.

And the Good Human, smiles through tears and holds on. Smelling that smell of sunshine, dirt and goodness a final time, grateful for every lick, every lesson learned. Because they are better people for having been loved by a dog.

A Nice Box is Good to Find

This will be the last post about my animals for little bit.

Bubba loves a nice new box. New to him at least. He needs someone else to open it up for him first. He finds one on the floor or out back by the garbage and is immediately enamoured with it. He rubs up against the sides of the box, sniffing it all over until finally just climbing right inside head first. He loves boxes.

Bubba's gets drawn in by the open flaps and ends up a hostage. He follows his nose right n and no matter how hard he scrabbles around or whacks the box of the wall using only his face his hind legs for traction he can't get out. Has to get Mommy to grab him by the ass and pull him out of the box. He's always so embarrassed.

Then he finds the next one and sometimes its a better fit, roomier inside than you would think from the outside. But still cozy. I can tell he's glad he went for it. He could have got hurt or humiliated or covered in garbage but he took the chance and until I take out the recycling, Bubba's found his box.

Random Deep Thought

I just learned some pretty deep stuff from my pit bull Rosie and from footprints outside in the snow.


Lesson 1. Rosie commits 100% to the balls out celebration of everything she experiences. Everything. No scrap of food or whiff of scent is too small for complete attention and investigation. Cake and cat shit get equal time attention and apparently, enjoyment. Rosie is always happy.


Lesson 2. Small animal prints in my back yard illustrated the following scenario: A cat entered the yard from the north west corner heading in a south easterly direction. Upon reaching the approximate center of the yard it circled 3 times and had a poop. The cat then continued in to the SE and exited the yard. Small human prints along side the cat prints coming FROM the SE to the NW  show that a child took the time to get bundled up for the snow found a stick, followed the prints to the approximate center of the yard, circled the poop 3 times, poked it with the stick, discarded the stick and then exited the yard by tramping through the bushes along the fence. I read somewhere that the average 6 year old laughs 100s of times a day. They are almost always happy.