I Don't Think I'll Get Another Dog

He’s an old dog. Real old. Just about 15 (in human years!) His owner, Rob, didn't have to tell me that. Just looking at Jake, it was pretty clear. I've watched the chocolate lab for a while now, and honestly, it’s hard. He walks out the front door, concentrating on every step. His legs move awkwardly, wrongly, as he shambles across the porch floor. When Jake gets to the edge, he looks over the 6 inch drop to the ground as if he’s on an imposing precipice. Finally, after he stokes his courage, over the edge he goes. At most, he makes it about 15 feet from the front door. Yet it's clear Rob still loves Jake. Sometimes when Jake just can't find the energy to make it back up onto the porch, Rob picks up his big old dog and carries him inside. Jake looks like a real good dog, but his body has just stopped working for him, and it is clear he doesn't have much time left with us.

While I didn't know Jake when he was a puppy, I saw the same thing happen with my dog. When she was young, Pepper would run just to run, bolting from the yard whenever she thought we had our backs turned. Just for, I assume, the joy of running. But the puppy became a dog, and the dog became an old dog, and with the years came the aging. Eventually her run was a trot, then a shuffle, then just a series of painful movements. We've all seen it happen, and it breaks our hearts to see the pet we've loved, become the helpless animal, who we still love. Finally, we have to decide if we allow our four legged friend to continue shuffling through the delight of just being alive, or whether we have the moral right to end the suffering and put him down. It’s a decision every one of us fears.

Which is why I don’t think I’ll ever get another dog. Don’t get me wrong, I really like dogs. I like the friendship, the companionship, and the love they bring. I like that, when it seems the whole world is against us, they still greet us happily, eagerly, and joyfully, almost as if they’re saying “I don’t care what other people think, I’m not other people; I’m a dog and I love you.” Well, maybe they’re not saying that, but it sure feels like it.

Yet, as I watch Jake, I’m not sure I can go through that again. Because as wonderful as dogs are, for the most part, they just don’t age well. But then again, I guess either do most of us. So when it comes time to think about getting a dog, I’m just not sure.

But you know, that’s the thing about love. Whether it’s a lover, a child, or a pet, we enter into the loving relationship willingly, expectantly, even sometimes foolishly. We know how it might end up; with disappointment, separation, or even death. Yet, eagerly, even wildly, we embrace it, all the while knowing that at some time down the road we’ll probably endure heartbreak and pain. Yet forward we go, accepting the sweet, the glorious, the promise of that which makes life worth living, letting the foreknowledge of the future drift away to somewhere in our minds and hearts that we rarely travel, conveniently hidden away from our conscious thoughts. Allowing us to enjoy, without fear, the love as it should be enjoyed; for all the wonder and joy which it can bring to us. In some ways, it is the ultimate risk/reward choice. And yet, we accept love, almost every time. And that is, I think, as it should be. Life brings pain and heartbreak, yet along with it all comes wonder, joy, and all the things that make us as God intended us to be. Which, when taken as a whole, is a very good thing.

You know, thinking about it again, maybe I was wrong. Maybe I’ll get a dog after all.