So I was doing yard work this afternoon and my eyes kept tearing up–I figured it was grass allergy. Anyway, something was missing and I realized while mowing the lawn that I wasn’t grousing as usual, “That dog is killing the grass” or “I’m sick and tired of picking up after her.” Sweeping the patio I almost expected Ginger to come bounding out of the doggie door because she always took a special delight in going to the lawn after I had beautified it and leaving one of her masterpieces on it. (If your eyes had seen what my eyes have seen, you would agree that she could be quite the sculptor at times.)
The realization comes gradually but with absolute certainty–I would be happy to go on cleaning up after Ginger and reseeding the dead patches in the lawn if I could somehow turn back the clock, take away Ginger’s cancer, and have her with us for twelve more years. Of course, this is mostly for Barbara’s sake. (Dang allergy–where’s the tissue?)
It occurred to me that every pet owner has an implicit agreement with their animal. It begins the day we bring it home from the rescue shelter, pet store, or wherever we are fortunate enough to encounter them for the first time. I admit that there are good dogs and bad dogs, good cats and bad cats, and so on and on, even as there are good humans and bad humans. But in all fairness to the animals, the bad ones have frequently become that way through the abuse of a bad human or the neglect of a clueless human. Continue reading