BY JOELLEN COLLINS
I have been through a period of sadness the past few weeks, and, while I won’t elaborate, I have engaged in some serious and some possibly inane reflections about the tragedies that have befallen my dear friends and then also pondered my own way of dealing with major setbacks.
I do not pretend that, after overwhelming loss, I would have the strength to keep putting one foot in front of the other in an effort to live my life as fully as I can: I would hope I would emulate my friends and “carry on” in just that manner; I feel that those pals are the most courageous people I know. God forbid that I should suffer in this particular way, though I have survived many of life’s lessons to awaken in the morning without agony.
All that said, as I sat down today at my laptop, I instinctively started to write about the sadness around us, the fear of escalating terrorism, the mockery to our great country in current politics. However, with the nearness of my two small dogs, one of whom awakened me with a wet kiss to my forearm, I decided to list the reasons why at least having doggie residents in one’s house can remind one — even if for a moment — that there is (yes) some unconditional love to help place small bandages on our lacerated souls.
Without being too dismissive or condescending about other people’s anguish, I pose a reminder of the behavior and sustaining love of my two white fluffs.
1. When doggies wake up in the morning, they are open to the possibilities of love (one of my own mantras), life, exercise, and food.
2. They stretch as they awaken, beginning the day with a positive physical action.
3. They eat with gusto.
4. They nap as often as possible.
5. They embrace the challenges of the outdoors.
6. They love to play, whether with a fleece pull toy or with a tennis ball, which they learn to throw themselves.
7. Most dogs I have met, unless severely abused, do not harbor grudges.
8. They pretty much live in the present, savoring a treat or a cuddle or a brisk walk whenever offered.
9. They greet those they love with more loyalty and affection than seem possible.
My small adopted dog, acquired in San Francisco when I was only 5 (as was she, though burdened with her name “Lassie”), gave me courage through all of my teen angst years, leaning her face toward mine while I listened to “Mr. Sandman” on my RP player and being me with me until we were both 17. If Lassie could have spoken, she would have said, “I give you cuddles, unconditional love, and understanding.”
I would hope, as those I love ford the waters of grief, that they can occasionally find some solace even from nonhuman friends as well as from the supportive community we are blessed to inhabit.