I intended to share with you some of my adventures at Blogpaws, but then my best friend’s dog passed away. Muck, named by my best friend’s son, after the dumptruck in Bob the Builder, was a sweet happy girl with brown eyes and long black eyelashes that she would bat as if she thought herself the prettiest girl in the room. She made me smile every time I visited and even laugh out loud the time I watched her chasing Roxy, my friend’s cat, whizzing past her like Wile E. Coyote chasing the Road Runner, as Roxy watched from a perch above her head.
A Walker Coonhound, Muck began having seizures a month ago and after a long one this morning, my friend had to put her down. I learned about this, when I read my friend’s son’s Facebook status this afternoon. He wrote about his love of his dog and if the words left any room for doubt (they didn’t), the accompanying pictures of the teenage boy with the aged hound’s head pressed against his, shed any remaining trace. The bond between the two is so tangible, intimate, raw and beautiful that even if you did not know the story accompanying them, it would be easy to cry. I read the story of their life together, having witnessed much of it myself, amidst tears. Near the end of this homage, the boy wrote: “I held her paw, told her she was the best dog ever…” And, as I cried all the harder, I also paused to wonder how many other dogs have heard the same words “…the best dog ever.”
All dogs lucky enough to find a good home no doubt hear those words at one time or another and certainly at the end, because they are true – the reward for the companionship, joy, heartache, headaches, fun and loyalty they bestow. We dog lovers deem ourselves lucky to have shared our lives with such creatures and praise them for their unconditional love, but in reading these words today, I realized our dogs know unconditional love as well. We stare inside their soulful brown eyes and think of all the faithful years they gave us and declare each of them– the best dog ever, because Muck was, and so is mine, and so is yours.
Are we becoming more like our dogs or are they becoming more like us? I met this poodle at Blogpaws. I believe its name is Chilly, but I'll have to sit down and sort through the myriad business cards I exchanged before I can be sure. Chilly's colorful purple and magenta head and tail sure drew attention, but I was attracted to them for an additional reason. It seemed that Chilly and I had the same idea when it came to preparing for the big event. I, too, had visited a hairdresser the week before Blogpaws getting my hair dyed with purple and magenta streaks. Could it be a case of great minds thinking alike?
