I have never really liked animals that much. I had nothing against them, but I just never got excited to spend any time with them. Growing up, my little sister LOVED to go to the zoo and pet the bunnies, but I just wanted to jump around on the rocks in the pond. That animal ambivalence extended to adulthood: I never formed a bond with a pet, never thought about whether dogs go to heaven, and really didn't care if they had personalities or not. I left that to people who wanted to be vets or breeders or just had that "I care about animals" chip in their brain.
However, I am now smitten with a dog named Dewey. I don't really understand it. He just has captured my heart. He's my co-worker's dog, and I take care of him when his owner goes out of town. Even though I like Dewey's owner tremendously, I now find myself secretly hoping he will take more trips so I can have more time with this dog I adore. Dewey is the cutest pug, and yes, he makes noise when he breathes. He has a smushed up face, and pleading brown eyes, and his spirit is sweet and gentle. When I sit on the couch he sits on my lap, when I sleep he cuddles up next to me, and when I do stuff around the house he follows me around. The best is that when I get out of the shower, there's Dewey, just sleeping on the bathmat waiting for me.
The hard thing is that both times I have had to give Dewey back to his owner, I actually found myself crying later because I missed him. This is kind of shocking to me, as I have never counted myself as an "animal lover." But I am a Dewey lover :) There is something strange that happens in me when he is around - I just like taking care of him. I like to make him happy. I really enjoy, more than I can say, taking him on walks and making his tail wag. I even don't mind him walking on my head at 6am so I will get up and feed him. I like it, because I like being the carer of Dew.
Maybe that's what we were made for in a larger sense - to make other's tails wag. And even though it hurts to have to say goodbye, I am willing to take the tears in order to have the time with him. I hate crying right now, but if you asked me if I would dogsit Dewey next weekend (knowing I would cry when it was over), I'd say yes without hesitation. And isn't that what life is...choosing to experience the pain of loss by opening our hearts to love. I mean, it's not in the vows, but really when two people stand at an altar on their wedding day, what they are agreeing to is one more funeral in their life. No one wants to think of it that way, but that's what it is. Love is saying "I choose opening my heart to hurt, in order to have closeness with you."
I know philosophers have said it much more eloquently - Levinas and the face of the other calling responsibility out of the self, Kierkegaard and love giving and taking all, Nietzsche and the madness and reason in love, but my moments with Dewey remind me of those truths in an experiential way. To love is to agree to hurt, but to not do so is to choose to be dead. I don't want a dead heart! So tonight I will cry because I miss Dewey. And in each parting, break-up, and funeral in my life, I will let myself feel all the sorrow, even the times where I think I will break under the weight of it. Because without the tears, you never get the love. You don't get the wedding unless you agree to the funeral. Without the goodbye, you never get the weekend with Dewey :)
Or, as Bertand Russell said, "to fear love is to fear life, and those who fear life are already three parts dead."
