Dogs Teach Us Things, Part 2

Sadie

I’ve said it before, that dogs teach us things. It was a title of a post I did last year for my boy Henry. It lives in my head and in my heart all the time, some days more than others. When I think about one of my dogs that’s not here anymore and begin to feel sad, if I can instead focus on something they taught me then I feel like they’re still right here with me. And I understand that we teach them things, too, but “sit”, “stay” and “down” hardly measure up to the lessons they give to us. Theirs are bigger, much more important. It’s usually at the end through our tears when they leave us, that we realize that all along—whoops!—they had been teaching us. And when they depart, we’re always—always—better for having known them.

A few days ago I read this really wonderful tribute in the newspaper and I wanted to share it here. It’s for Sadie, the dog in the photo above. Of course it’s sad, but it’s really a celebration of her life and the lessons she left behind for her family. I think that’s what each of us hopes to achieve. Sadie was no different, and her time here was well spent.

A Dying Dog Gives Lessons on Life’s Dynamics
by Mack Paul

My family faced a difficult decision. Our dog Sadie was diagnosed with a virulent form of cancer. The vet told us she would not live much longer. As friends and family members learned of Sadie’s condition, a network lit up as words of concern and encouragement arrived. The architecture of her life became apparent as an interwoven set of relationships emerged.

My wife and I worried that she might experience a painful end. We debated whether to avoid that risk by scheduling an appointment to put her down. This discussion caused me to reflect on the value of her life.

How important was it that she live another week, a month, six months? Would she really comprehend the difference? I realized the answer to that question was not about her but about me. I did not want to lose her. A week or month to her probably mattered little, but it mattered a lot to me.

We had our issues with Sadie. She struggled mightily against certain impulses. One Halloween we dressed her as a devil with cape and horns. She managed to escape from our house and terrorize the neighborhood before we corralled her home. At Thanksgiving another year, she grabbed the turkey off the counter before dinner. That did not go over well with our guests.

Escape and jumping up on the counter were repeated themes for Sadie. Of course, she felt tremendous remorse for these acts. She knew that she had let us down and would try to do better.

Despite these foibles, Sadie performed a valuable role. She greeted us each day with love and affection. She bonded with anyone perceived as a family friend. Her presence at my side said that no worry was worth the effort. As I encountered the typical conflicts in life, she helped sustain me. In other words, her efforts lifted me and thereby my family, colleagues and others tethered together through a variety of networks.

Numerous studies underscore the important role that relationships play in health, happiness and longevity. A dog can deepen and extend these important relationships. Animals offer a unique personal bond that transports us beyond the mundane stress that can envelope our lives. Just as importantly, a dog facilitates connections with others. Nothing breaks down barriers better than an encounter with someone else’s dog.

An elected official recently told me that if board members could take their dogs to meetings, the incessant infighting would decrease dramatically. Just imagine what might happen if Congress dropped its “no pets” policy.

After her diagnosis, Sadie rallied. For two weeks, the pain receded, and I was able to put the illness out of mind. We treasured each day, spoiling her with treats. We even laughed when she grabbed my brother-in-law’s sandwich off the railing before he left on a long journey back to DC.

When the time came to end her life, we knew it was the right thing to do. We faced an unbearable void and would feel her absence acutely. However, Sadie left the network of relationships that comprised her life stronger through her love, service and toil.

Is our own charge in life that different?

We are here to love family and friends, serve our community and toil in order to sustain our material existence. We struggle against impulses that impede our capacity to perform these acts. This dynamic forms the basis of our life’s narrative and ultimately affects a much larger world.

Thankfully, we have friends who can help us on this journey.

Beautiful. You can read the original column here.

Erica Preo is CEO & Creative Director of Pantofola, pure luxury Italian goods for dogs.

 

Typographic Tuesday: Mary Oliver

"Dog on Beach" by Shannon BuekerThe First Time Percy Came Back, by Mary Oliver

Today’s Typographic Tuesday honors National Poetry Month here in America and it’s brought to you by big dose of serendipity (which, I love): this morning I asked my yoga instructor Shannon after class if she could recommend a great dog poem and her eyes lit up. The book she was holding in her hands is by one of her favorite poets, Mary Oliver, and she quickly found this one for me. I knew it would be perfect, a little bit sad but mostly uplifting and tender. Shannon is a very talented artist, and I’ve wanted to feature her work here for a while and as it turns out, one of the three watercolors of hers that I own is this one titled “Dog on Beach”. That makes me want to say “spoooooky…” but I’m just going to say “ommmmmmmm!” Thanks, Shannon!

“The First Time Percy Came Back” is from A Thousand Mornings by Mary Oliver. A great bio—and a lovely photo with her dog—can be found here.

Artist Shannon Bueker’s work can be found on her website here.

Dogs Teach Us Things

My dog Henry

Barnaby was like a mood, a fragrance of the harmonious inner life, permeating everything with which he came into contact. He knew sorrow and he knew joy, and he held them in a delicate balance of serenity and peace. He knew how to respond equally joyfully to an invitation to walk or talk or sit together, which seems to me to be a particular kind of training in grace—a willingness to respond easily and happily to even the most modest adventure together. Perhaps it could be said that within his framework of being a dog, he lived life as a spiritual exercise.  —from Mystical Dogs by Jean Houston

My yoga instructor read this to our class this week and it made me think about my dog Henry, shown above. We had to say our goodbyes one year ago this weekend, and so I thought it would be nice, a tribute of sorts, to share it here. I haven’t featured Henry on the blog like the others, because it’s been too hard. In fact, Henry’s BFF Nicholas also passed away last October, so that’s two missing from my Dog Bios. But I’ll save those posts for another day, and for now just try and honor the light that Henry shared with everyone he met. Like the excerpt says, “a willingness to respond easily and happily to even the most modest adventure together”, that was my Henry. Like all dogs, he was a champion of living in the moment, but with his own added zest.

I miss you, Captain Feathers.

Capitán : Argentina’s Hachikō

Capitan standing watch in the cemetery

The story of Japan’s Hachikō is one of the most touching tales about the eternal bond between man and dog around (if you’re not familiar with the story, you can read my post here). It’s also the most popular post I’ve featured here on Dogs Make Everything Better, having been viewed by thousands of people the world over. So I thought I’d share this incredible story that I’d read about a few months ago because it’s very similar. But unlike the tale of Hachikō and Professor Ueno that took place many decades ago, this story is taking place right now.

It’s 2005 in the small town of Villa Carlos Paz, Argentina and a man named Miguel Guzman adopts a German Shepherd mix dog named Capitán as a gift for his son Damian. When Mr. Guzman suddenly passes away the following year the family notices that when they returned from the funeral service, Capitán had disappeared. But soon they saw him again.

“We searched for him, but he had vanished,” widow Veronica Guzman told the newspaper La Voz. “We thought he must have got run over and died. The following Sunday we went to the cemetery, and Damian recognized his pet. Capitán came up to us, barking and wailing as if he were crying.”

Capitan at the cemetery

But get this: the truly amazing thing is that Capitán had never been to the cemetery, or the gravesite. According to cemetery director Hector Baccega: “He turned up here one day, all on his own, and started wandering all around the cemetery until he eventually found the tomb of his master. During the day he sometimes has a walk around the cemetery, but always rushes back to the grave. And every day, at six o’clock sharp, he lies down on top of the grave, stays there all night.” Mr. Baccega added that the cemetery staff now care for and feed Capitán as he maintains his steadfast vigil.

Damian Guzman says that the family has tried several times to bring Capitán back home, but each time he disappears and returns to the cemetery. “I think he’s going to be there until he dies, too. He’s looking after my dad,” he said.

Incredible.

All photos La Voz.