The wonder of dogs

Somedays you just have to write about something beautiful. Today I am writing about dogs. I have been blessed with the pitter patter of paws in my life since I was a child. Our first family dog, Pepper—a Basenji x Corgi, lived to the ripe old age of 18. By this stage he was grey, had mild dementia, and we couldn’t move any of the furniture or else he would bump into it because he was almost totally blind. As often happens with fury family members, once his quality of life declined, we had to deliver him to the ‘Rainbow Bridge’.

Growing up with Pepper fostered a lifelong love of puppers. When I first moved out of home I adopted my first dog, Zen —a Labrador x Bull Terrier. This beautiful soul was my constant companion, through my chaotic early twenties, through romance and heartbreak, through dropping out of Uni and re-enrolling a few years later. I remember coming home from late night outs and having to rush to my bedroom to stop her thick black tail from wagging into the wall and waking up the household.

"They told me my house smelled like dogs, and I asked them, Do you know what a dog smells like? It smells like gratitude, loyalty, nobility, affection, pure unconditional love. And in spite of all they've been through, they smell no resentment. So blessed that my house smells like dogs.” —Patrick Swayze

Zen was with me when I purchased my first apartment, and when I met the guy that became my husband and the father of my children. And at the age of 14 she stoically tolerated the crazy new addition to our family, a 6 month old Staffy named Monny. The loss of Zen to old age was the first time I had experience real, heart wrenching grief. The kind of grief that chokes you up and follows you through your day. The kind of grief that leaves a hole that is never quite filled.

But that is the things about dogs. They never live long enough—which makes our time with them all the more precious. In 2018 we added another four legged member to the family, a little white Staffy called Sydney. A crazy whirlwind of a puppy that I watched breathe life into our aging Monny, with relentless play, adoration and spooning day naps. Sydney enriched our lives in so many ways, while also ripping up the $7k landscaping we had recently completed in the backyard, chewing the plaster corners of the walls of the house, chewing on every leg of every piece of furniture we owned, and regularly exploding dog beds.

Was she worth all the chaos? Absolutely.

The bond between myself and my dogs has been wonderfully symbiotic. An evolving deepening connection that surpasses the confines of spoken language.

For me, the fact that my dogs are totally reliant on me to take care of them only deepens the love. I am better for the responsibility. When I arrive home after a day of work, Sydney greets me with a level of happiness and excitement that is palpable. Her whole potato bodies shakes with joy, and she howls with anticipation, and come sun, rain or hail, we immediately embark on a walk. We do the same walk every night, but for her it is the greatest thing ever. She runs, purely for the sake of running, rummages through bushes looking for stray cricket balls, and we play a game where she runs away while I pretend to chase her (despite the thousands of times we repeat this game, it never gets old for her).

She is pure love. Pure joy. Pure excitement. Sydney, Syd, Fatty, Fatty McFats, The Potato, Fats. Syd lives her best life every day. From waking up next to me in our king size bed, after a night of snoring and dreaming of the park, she loves the kids, the cleaner, our friends and family, she loves everyone. We have never been robbed, but I’m sure if we were, she would love them too.

She hates brooms, coke cans and balloons. She is obsessed with balls, all balls, but particularly cricket balls. It is her life’s mission to bring home as many cricket balls as she can.

When I arrive home from work, guaranteed I will see her snout poking around the corner at the top of the stairs, with that tell tale wiggle that tells me she is happy. She runs with abandon, plays with joy, sleeps without fear and loves with her whole body. She is as much a part of our family as any other member, and she makes our lives better everyday that we have her.

I don’t know what we did to deserve dogs, but if you ask me it’s no coincidence that dog spelt backwards spells god.

---

The Rainbow Bridge (Author unknown)

Just this side of heaven is a place called Rainbow Bridge.

When an animal dies that has been especially close to someone here, that pet goes to Rainbow Bridge. There are meadows and hills for all of our special friends so they can run and play together. There is plenty of food, water and sunshine, and our friends are warm and comfortable.

All the animals who had been ill and old are restored to health and vigor. Those who were hurt or maimed are made whole and strong again, just as we remember them in our dreams of days and times gone by. The animals are happy and content, except for one small thing; they each miss someone very special to them, who had to be left behind.

They all run and play together, but the day comes when one suddenly stops and looks into the distance. His bright eyes are intent. His eager body quivers. Suddenly he begins to run from the group, flying over the green grass, his legs carrying him faster and faster.

You have been spotted, and when you and your special friend finally meet, you cling together in joyous reunion, never to be parted again. The happy kisses rain upon your face; your hands again caress the beloved head, and you look once more into the trusting eyes of your pet, so long gone from your life but never absent from your heart.

Then you cross Rainbow Bridge together.