It is sometimes fascinating to consider how the mind can observe or ponder and then seemingly randomly connect distinct images or concepts to create a new, independent thought or awareness. After I bought my last car, for instance, I felt as though there was an extraordinary number of vehicles just like mine on the road, though the actual proportion was unlikely different than before my purchase. Or how an idea of quantum physics and multiple dimensions can be seamlessly blended with dreams, nightmares and death to explain the mind and soul when they are not part of our physical awareness.
Along that thought, I have recently felt as though more people than usual have been out sharing a summer's day with a new puppy or recently adopted dog. Small, happy, bouncing pekingese pups, medium-sized boxers and pit bulls and large, striding greyhounds and great danes are out in force in my neighborhood of Center City South and up into Rittenhouse Square. I stop and pet each one that is attached to a human that has a moment to stop. I get wet kisses, exposed bellies to rub and get to give an occasional long, appreciative scratch behind the ears.
My belief of the apparent overabundance of dogs is no doubt keenly attributed the recent loss of my own Rascal after our extremely long relationship of 19 years, seven months and four days. Rascal was a small mix of terrier, poodle and Yorkie and looked somewhat like a fox, to some, and like a miniature shepherd, to others. She and I said goodbye to her litter brother, Mickey, when he was 18 years, three weeks old. To be with any person or pet for most of one's adult life creates an emotional connection that long outlives any wished for or dreamed-of relationship and the relationship between human and pet is a unique bond that any non-owner cannot, or does not, appreciate.
I miss my little girl and her brother more than any written words could ever convey. Of all of the wonderful memories, gifts, delights, concerns and upheavals that being attached to two small animals can bring, the lesson of unconditional love is by far the most enduring and poignant. Who could ever hope to achieve the same singular happiness in life than when a dog greets us after a day's work or even just a five minute walk to the around the block? No matter how long I may have been gone, what I'd done, what state of mind I might have been in when I came in the door, my little welcoming committee, comprised of one or two, would give me the affection and attention that I may not have always appreciated fully and certainly would not have always deserved.
For my Rascal, with thoughts and a reminder of Mickey, I make this promise: I will do my best to live remaining days of life to their fullest extent; to care about, appreciate and show honest interest in all people and animals around me, and, when I am sufficiently prepared physically and emotionally, I will again open my life, my heart, and my home to another pet who may need my affection as much as I need theirs.
I promise.
Peace,
scott
