Good days and bad, we all have them. Life can go from laid-back to hectic in two seconds flat. It can morph from that confident feeling of total control into an emotion that sounds more like, “Stop the ride – I want to get off!”
No matter how my day has gone, or what grief yet lies in ambush for me before the sun goes down, there is one constant that awaits me when I make it home and open my front door: noses.
Yup. Two big wet ones, one brownish-pink and one black, and then somewhere down behind, another small pointy one belonging to a little yipper who can’t seem to make it to the front of the welcome committee for fear of being trampled. All of them just twitching and pushing, trying to be the first to share their unwavering excitement which somehow magically seems to melt away the day’s demands that too often follow me home.
Several years ago our daughter Hillary stumbled across an ad or perhaps a Facebook post from someone who was trying to find a home for a couple of labs. We already had “Abby-longdog” (the yipper mentioned above) and were quite used to her dachshund ways. Believe me, we didn’t need two more dogs, let alone BIG ones. How we eventually ended up adopting them is worthy of a whole other post; I’ll save the details of that heart-over-head decision for some moment when I feel like babbling about how parents give in too easily to their children’s whims and then become saddled with responsibility after said child grows up and moves away . . . whew! (Luv u Hill)
We’re told they had been left behind as puppies in a trailer court, and were believed to be brother and sister. The young lady who rescued them was now headed to vet school in another state and had no choice but to find them a new family. Her unwillingness to seperate them made that challenge even more difficult. Truth is, Sonny and Cher found their way into our home and our hearts despite their hugeness, their hairiness, and those names that we always have to explain to folks. (Couldn’t the former owner have just gone with something the younger generation might understand, like “Brangelina?”) So here they were, just trying to fit in and learn the rules of their new domain, and consuming mass quantities of Kibble-n-Bits in the process. Sure we’ve had a few moments – emergency runs to the vet, establishing who the big dog around here is, etc. – but considering their rough start in life, they’ve become sincerely gentle and loving companions and are now quite firmly entrenched as members of this family.
Maybe I need to take a que from Sonny and Cher. The consistent love they exude for “their people” far outshines the attitude that I often unload on those I should be cherishing the most. Sure, if I had the stress-free life of a dog, I could be happy-go-lucky all the time too. But those are shallow excuses, despite the realities of our demanding human world. Some days we get it right, and others – well, those are the days I look forward to the noses in my door.