i lost my dog charlie last week. for those of you who have loved and lost a dog — or a cat, or any creature who made your home feel more like home — you know that the silence they leave behind is its own particular kind of heavy. there are no words that quite cover it.
i wrote this piece years ago, but i'm sharing it again today because i think she'd want me to. and because, even now — especially now — i believe what she always knew: it's today.
so i am not one of those people who insist that their dog taught them the meaning of life. so don't worry. this is not an "everything i ever needed to know i learned from a four-footed furry animal" post.
that said, i have found my early morning walks with her more instructive than a lot of other purported life guidance i have received. first, i should note that i am not a morning person. i don't really function until my body has consumed enough caffeine.
my dog, however, is a morning dog. so as we walk the five blocks to starbucks, she is absolutely, utterly doggy ecstatic. there is a lot for her to be excited about. there are pigeons everywhere, and yes, she is going to catch one someday (even if she has not done so in the first three years of life). and then there are the many, many messages that other dogs have left for her since last night. there is usually important news everywhere, but at the bare minimum, she will discover if anyone interesting has moved into her neighborhood.
she also knows that she will receive all sorts of pats and praise — even during the morning rush. (i suspect this is proof that you get what you expect to get. i have seen her stare down people in our elevator while waiting for a head pat, and she is an excellent communicator.)
most of all, what i see during our morning walks is an animal that is really happy that it is today.
to me, her feeling about that is actually in all caps, as in "IT'S TODAY!!!" accompanied by a vigorous tail wag.
i am challenged to maintain my pre-caffeine fog in the face of all that "IT'S TODAY!" energy. try as i might, i can't help but take sides in the pigeon pursuit (i call them "bad birdies" now because i am sure they sit there letting her believe she has a chance and then promptly fly away when she gets oh so close).
and when my dog engages with humanity (as she must to get all those head pats), i too must engage and even just maybe be nice. so i have adopted a bit of her dog philosophy on the nature of morning. it is (wag, wag) today. with a whole new set of opportunities and unexpected moments to come. a new day of, well, life.
my dog didn't give me a whole new perspective on how to experience the world. but joining her on our morning walks, it now routinely crosses my mind that it's today. in all caps.
that's good, i think.
IT'S TODAY.