Mutts


My dogs wait for me. I have never had dogs that do that. Ever.

I grew up with purebreds who, the moment they could, would take off. They might be  gone for hours, or days. But these dogs, these two mutts (one from a pound, and the other from an abandoned box of nine puppies) know a good thing when they see it: a warm bed, regular meals, and cats who leave them alone.

They aren’t going anywhere.

As I stand at the edge of the hillside looking down at the rushing river below me, soaking in the sun, I eventually turn and there they are, waiting. All the fascinating smells of deer, and skunks, and porcupines, are put on hold until they are sure I’m ok, are sure I’m following. Then, they take off.

It makes me feel loved, watched over, somehow sad.

These animals, the same ones I have been so often annoyed with during our forced confinement during COVID, aren’t annoyed with me. They aren’t sick of my sweatpants, or critical of my many faults.  They don’t seem to notice them,  – unless it is my occasional lapse in feeding them on time.

But, even then, their response is to circle me, wagging and smiling, until I remember.

They say you can learn a lot from your pets. They may be right:

To put others ahead of self when there are fascinating things to smell and do

To remind someone of their shortcomings through unflagging affection

To make room on your couch when someone wants to share it

To bark ferociously when you think something is outside, threatening your home (even when it is just a baby squirrel)

To be  excited each morning to see the people you love

To stay close by the side of anyone who seems sad, and refuse to leave them

I guess we can learn from our pets.



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