When I was growing up my family had a dog. My husband's family had cats. After we were married he didn't want a dog and I didn't want a cat. We knew we would never, never, ever have a pet.
A chocolate brown springer spaniel arrived first and we named her Mocha. This was followed a couple of years later by a white and brown Collie-cross we called Carmel. I know, the candy themed names are rather pathetic. Hang on, it gets worse.
For many years these delightful dogs brought countless hours of joy and became a special part of our experiences as a family. Sadly, age and illness resulted in the loss of both dogs within eight months of each other. The pain of losing our beloved pets convinced us we didn't want to ever go through that again. We knew we would never, never, ever have another pet.
Hershey, a lab shepherd-cross, arrived as a surprise for our daughters while two years later an ill-conceived concept of a "family vote" resulted in the addition of a golden retriever named Toffee. (That's it for the candy-coated names--I promise).
Studies suggest that pet owners benefit from the presence of an animal in their home. They cite lower blood pressure, decreased heart rates and fewer headaches among the many health benefits of sharing your life with a pet. Although I truly loved seeing the wagging tails of my dogs welcoming me home at the end of the day, a quick trip through the memory of all the things these precious dogs destroyed as puppies does nothing but raise my blood pressure and cause my head to pound.
I recently read the account of a man and his dog who took part in a pet therapy volunteer program. Once a week the owner and his dog, Watson, spent the afternoon with patients in a residential program providing treatment for individuals who had suffered traumatic brain injuries. Some of these patients had lost their memory, others their ability to speak, but they responded to Watson's visits with anticipation and smiles, and for some, was the only living thing they seemed to connect with. Watson was a star. Patients, along with the staff, loved him.
To enroll his dog in the program the writer described the orientation process he was required to fulfill as the owner including seminars, workshops, criminal record check, and a workbook of information to study. Watson on the other hand had to be…a dog. His value was in being fully and wholly what he was made to be. Oh, what we could learn from Watson.
Consider the advice we often give to someone heading out on a date, or job interview, or any number of new situations: "just be yourself." The advice is great but it seems that the use of the word "just" gives us a sense that being ourselves ends up as something we need to be limited to. Instead of saying we should just be ourselves, how about saying we should be fully and wholly ourselves.
We had to experience again the pain of losing pets when Hershey and Toffee died within 10 days of each just a couple of years ago. There was no way we were going to go through that again and so we renewed our commitment to remain pet-free.
Weiss, a beautiful, but very big Saint Bernard now shares our home. It was intended as a short-term arrangement but despite my determination to not get too attached, there is no way I would want to let him go.
There is nothing about my dogs I would change--although I'd love to have a couple pair of my shoes back. They teach us many things: a walk is a good thing, we can be content with a couple of toys, treats are fun, and never pass up an opportunity to have a nap. Mocha, Carmel, Hershey, Toffee, Weiss and Watson are reminders to me that although there are stresses, strains, pressures and problems that need to be faced in life, the best thing we can do is to be fully and wholly ourselves. That's my outlook.
