Maybe it’s because I’m sitting next to the Christmas tree. Maybe it's because I'm full of eggnog and brandy (Full disclosure: I’m probably full of fudge and wine, too). But the last guest from a lively Christmas party just left the house, and I am warm and content and full of love for my fellow man.
In general, people are great. They have their downsides, sure, but in general: throw a crisis at a group of people, and we find a way to survive, pull through, generate heartwarming stories of love and fellowship and compassion, and then we figure out how to make jokes about it.
But I think the best thing about us is how much we love our pets. I’m not talking about the $260 billion we collectively spend on special beer and peticures (and that spelling is correct, that’s dog nail polish) for Fido every year.
No, today I’m talking about the eternal cycle: Person meets Puppy. Person falls in love with Puppy. Puppy falls in love with Person. Puppy sheds all over everything, and then eats the tongues out of all of Person’s shoes to show how much Puppy loves their Person. Person then gets Puppy a peticure and a dog beer, and loves Puppy back.
We fall in love with the puppy, and who can't? The bond is forged one Milk Bone, one tail wag and one nose boop at a time: every time we come home and they greet us with smiles and a chorus of barks; every time a small furry friend stands fierce guard against the delivery guy; every time a cold nose finds us when we are most despairing to remind us that it’s love for us that is wagging that tail.
Then, always after a too-brief time, we have to say goodbye to that protector, that companion, that nose-booper. And we are crushed, and vow to never love like that again, because losing such a beloved friend is not the worst thing that can happen to us but it is the exploding cigar we have willingly smoked. In spite of all that, somehow we wind up meeting another Puppy and manage to give our heart away again, even as we know the price we will pay and the cycle begins anew.
So, let's pour one out for the dogs we've loved before, for every four-legged friend who has left us with an empty space next to us on the couch. For Big Mac, who could destroy a Christmas tree with a tail he wagged well, but not too wisely. For Sadie, whose devotion to her Person was unmatched. For Tanner, who woke up with me for every 2 a.m. bathroom break and quietly kept me company in the cold morning. For Elmer, who spent years in search of the perfect nap. For Goose, who planted his 80-pound butt firmly in his grandpa’s lap at every opportunity, declining to move, and who patiently bore his Toddler Person’s enthusiastic and energetic embraces for almost three years.
Then remember to pour one out for yourself, because when we lose the best in ourselves and are broken open with grief, we will always find it there again waiting for us, wagging its tail and looking for a treat, and we will be brave enough and foolish enough to love one more time.
Elizabeth Evans is a local mother, wife, daughter, sister, former stay-at-home mom, former work-outside-the-home mom, former work-at-home mom and a human resources consultant.
