The truth about dogs
It's been about an hour since I've read this, and I'm still sobbing.
"I believe I know exactly when Harry became an old dog. He was about 9 years old. It happened at 10:15 on the evening of June 21, 2001, the day my family moved from the suburbs to the city. The move took longer than we'd anticipated. Inexcusably, Harry had been left alone in the vacated house -- eerie, echoing, empty of furniture and of all belongings except Harry and his bed-- for eight hours. When I arrived to pick him up, he was beyond frantic.
He met me at the door and embraced me around the waist in a way that is not immediately reconcilable with the musculature and skeleton of a dog's front legs. I could not extricate myself from his grasp. We walked out of that house like a slow-dancing couple, and Harry did not let go until I opened the car door.
He wasn't barking at me in reprimand, as he once might have done. He hadn't fouled the house in spite. That night, Harry was simply scared and vulnerable, impossibly sweet and needy and grateful."
Read the rest of Gene Weingarten's breathtakingly eloquent article about his late faithful canine companion Harry here. The story also celebrates the plentiful virtues of old dogs in general. (The Washington Post requires registration. It's free though, and totally worth it.)
Everyone in my life knows that I am utterly besotted with dogs. The larger they are, the better. (I've lost my heart to many Great Danes and Irish Wolfhounds...) I've a particularly soft spot reserved for Labs, though.
But they don't need a pedigree to win my heart. I grew up with mutts (100% pure dogs!), and hopefully I will be lucky enough to one day share my space and life with many, many more dogs.
After all, it's no challenge to love them. There is nothing noble about loving a creature that loves you completely, without condition or judgement. Even though we often don't deserve that love and loyalty.
But there is plenty of nobility about them.
If only the human race could possess an OUNCE of the ability to love like that. Unabashedly. Unconditionally. Without fear of being rejected. Despite being rejected many times over by the object of one's affection.
With all of their enormous, pure hearts.
If only...
"I believe I know exactly when Harry became an old dog. He was about 9 years old. It happened at 10:15 on the evening of June 21, 2001, the day my family moved from the suburbs to the city. The move took longer than we'd anticipated. Inexcusably, Harry had been left alone in the vacated house -- eerie, echoing, empty of furniture and of all belongings except Harry and his bed-- for eight hours. When I arrived to pick him up, he was beyond frantic.
He met me at the door and embraced me around the waist in a way that is not immediately reconcilable with the musculature and skeleton of a dog's front legs. I could not extricate myself from his grasp. We walked out of that house like a slow-dancing couple, and Harry did not let go until I opened the car door.
He wasn't barking at me in reprimand, as he once might have done. He hadn't fouled the house in spite. That night, Harry was simply scared and vulnerable, impossibly sweet and needy and grateful."
Read the rest of Gene Weingarten's breathtakingly eloquent article about his late faithful canine companion Harry here. The story also celebrates the plentiful virtues of old dogs in general. (The Washington Post requires registration. It's free though, and totally worth it.)
Everyone in my life knows that I am utterly besotted with dogs. The larger they are, the better. (I've lost my heart to many Great Danes and Irish Wolfhounds...) I've a particularly soft spot reserved for Labs, though.
But they don't need a pedigree to win my heart. I grew up with mutts (100% pure dogs!), and hopefully I will be lucky enough to one day share my space and life with many, many more dogs.
After all, it's no challenge to love them. There is nothing noble about loving a creature that loves you completely, without condition or judgement. Even though we often don't deserve that love and loyalty.
But there is plenty of nobility about them.
If only the human race could possess an OUNCE of the ability to love like that. Unabashedly. Unconditionally. Without fear of being rejected. Despite being rejected many times over by the object of one's affection.
With all of their enormous, pure hearts.
If only...
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is a South African girl living in South Africa. That doesn't sound very original, we know, but you might find it remotely interesting when you learn that she has only recently returned to South Africa for the first time after a nine year, one month and two week (non-stop!) stint in the United States where she accidentally became an outlawed alien (also known, especially in immigration circles, as an 'illegal immigrant.' We prefer the term 'outlawed alien' ourselves). During her reversed exile from her homeland, she kept herself occupied by winning this website (but only after shamelessly bribing the judges) and thus being unleashed on the web where she slowly, leisurely became the World's Laziest Blogger;
by being a nanny and by attending sci-fi conventions in search of other aliens. In the US, she also made her sailing debut, her international acting debut, tried and failed to learn the piano,
and never learned to cook. She is hopelessly addicted to coffee, dogs (especially Labrador Retrievers), how-to books (with a particular fondness for her copy of the Time/Life A - Z Medical Encyclopedia), and she tends to grossly overuse parentheses (we're not kidding) during her attempts at writing, which you may - if you really have masochistic tendencies - subject yourself to by reading the words to the right of this column.
If you REALLY and truly STILL want to know more, you can read her C.V. here.
Or you canstalk her send her some love via e-mail at: redsaid[AT]gmail[DOT]com
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with these rings, I thee join
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Copyright belongs to the author (ha ha! She called herself an author!) of this website.
I may never forgive you for this one. I am absolutely bawling.
Annika: I know, right? I've started rereading the article, but even though it's the next day over here already, it started choking me up again and I just had to stop.
I've been a fan of Gene Weingarten since living in D.C. and reading his weekly "Below the Beltway" column in the Post's Sunday Magazine. He has written dog columns before, but this is the first time that he has made me sob like this! (Damn you, Weingarten! You're supposed to be funny!) No, I adore him. If I can write a quarter as well as he can one day... Earlier this year, he won the Pulitzer for a feature article he wrote called Pearls before Breakfast. It's the astonishing story of how he convinced a world famous violinist to play in a D.C. subway station during a rush hour one morning.
Read it over here: http://www.washingtonpost.com/wp-dyn/content/article/2007/04/04/AR2007040401721.html
I read Pearls Before Breakfast! I didn't realize it was the same author. I've got to pay more attention to bylines. It's downright embarrassing as a writer that I am usually so clueless.
Dogs are awesome. No matter how crappy a day who have, they'll make you smile. Mine is sickly right now, but hopefully on his way to a good recovery.
I grew up with dogs and now that I am married, I appreciate our two mutts even more. The difference between a dog and your wife, is that after a year, your dog is still excited to see you :-)
Dumpee: That's the awesome thing about dogs... no matter what, they'll never dump us. No matter how many times we drag them to the dreaded vet. I am sooo glad that you have found a place and seem to be moving on, literally and figuratively! Anyway, I hope your pup gets well in no time!
Marco: Exactly! The dogs in my life have ever been far nicer to me than any person has ever been. They'll love you more than your own mother ever could. WHADOYOUMEAN if maybe I was a better looking kid?!?