Must Love Dogs
What they teach us is incredible. We need to pay attention.
I love my dogs.
Two of them are technically not ours, one belongs to my daughter and the other to my two sons. Ellie, my daughter's labradoodle visits pretty much every day, sometimes for days at a time, because she and our 15 year old lab mix, Ruby, are best buds. Ruby has needed her over the past 2-1/2 years since Ruby's brother Sammie died quickly and unexpectedly (ruptured tumor on his spleen). Ruby has gone deaf as a post, so Ellie is her hearing-ear service dog.
We chose Sammie, Ruby and Ellie, but we didn't choose the Bruise, he chose us. He showed up one day at our house in Florida and when I opened the door of my 350Z after pulling into the garage, he crawled into my lap before I could get out. Once I got his small cow-like body off my lap and his tongue out of my ear, we walked to the back door and when I opened it, he let himself in and walked to Debbie standing in the kitchen as if he was saying "I'm home. I'm hungry. What's for dinner, my peeps?"
Long story short, Bruiser WAS home. That was 13 years ago.
Big Bruise, my boys' Rhodesian Ridgeback/Staffordshire mix is, we estimate, around 14 and is really beginning to show it.
It first started around three years ago when we used to walk the pups in a leash-free area close to our house in Park City. We normally did between 3 and 5 miles a day with the dogs, but when Bruiser got his fill, he would just turn around, unannounced, and go home or he would just sit down and wait for us to notice the "I'm done" look on his face.
Every month his walks got shorter and shorter, to the point he couldn't go with the others because they were just getting warmed up when he was ready to go home and watch TV.
Over the past couple of years, his world has been shrinking rather rapidly.
The dog that once never missed a ride in my truck with his bucket head sticking out the window doesn't want to go anymore. The dog that once crawled onto our laps to watch TV and nap can't jump or climb now.
We actually bought a couple of vests with straps and handles on them so we could help him get up the stairs to our bedroom - and down - because the arthritis and a breathing condition he has won't let him do it alone - he is so hard headed that he won't sleep downstairs, even if we are on the couch beside his downstairs bed.
His world has now collapsed to mostly our den, our upstairs bedroom and a couple of patrols a day around our pool in the back yard.
He is now having trouble getting up the three steps from the garage into the house. Getting up off the hardwood floor requires assistance, so he has learned to only go down when he is on a rug where he can get traction.
He's is on arthritis meds, chondroitin/hyaluronic acid liquid made for horses, all sorts of CBD chews and FreshPet, Farmer's Dog and all sorts of healthy food (I warmed up some for him last night that smelled like sausage casserole - I damn near took a bite just to see how it tasted. I didn't, but I wanted to.)
It's amazing to me how nature doesn't discriminate in the animal kingdom. Being around 9.2 dog years myself, my world is shrinking as well. I fight it, but I don't play 100 softball games, play pickup basketball three or four times a week, go out as much as I used to or engage in as many social events as I once did.
Hell, I'm on a bunch of meds, too.
And like Bruiser's world, mine is shrinking, too.
I push back just like he does, but the reality is that both our worlds are not as vast as the once were.
This morning, while hugging that big brown dog, getting a face wash from a shovel sized tongue and suffering his atomic, intercontinental ballistic farts (the healthy, good food makes him gassy), I looked into his eyes and saw nothing but contentment and love.
No pain, no hurt or dread. Just pure, unadulterated love.
I think all animals, even humans, know when the clock begins to tick a little slower. When Bruiser's time comes, I will be an emotional wreck - but this morning he showed me that no matter how small the world gets, there is always more love than the biggest world can contain.
When all else fails, love remains.
A good lesson to learn, especially when it comes from a friend like Bruiser.
For years, I’ve thought God gave them to us as an earthly demonstration of His love, for us, and an example of how we are to love others: selflessly, limitlessly, holding no grudges, with no ulterior motives, and always welcoming, to the extent of our abilities.
Losing them, Always too soon, leaves a dog-sized hole in our hearts that can never be filled again, but loving another one expands our capacity to love in ways we didn’t think possible.
The “Book ends” of life:
God/dog_____dog/God.
I read this with tears in my eyes. For almost 40 yrs., we've had anywhere from 2-4 dogs in our home always--currently we have 3. Watching them slow down with age is always sad, knowing we almost always outlast them. Nearly all of our dogs have been rescues so when they live to ripe old ages, we know that we've given them a life they might not have had otherwise. We grieve like we've lost a child when it's "their time," but know they're out of pain. When there's so much ugliness in the world, thank God we have these critters.