Loss of a dog, no a friend

This weeks article is another guest article by Dan McNeil. This one much less controversial than his previous articles, and a tribute. He wrote this in May of 2014.

I lost a best friend last week.  After 11 years, our Yorkie passed on.

He’d been fading for a year, his passing was expected, and we knew it would be sad.  But I thought it would be bearable.

Bearable it’s not.

As small dogs go, he was typical, sometimes a barking-pain-in-the- butt, and others quiet and affectionate.

At the end of the day, he was ecstatic to see us.  When we walked in the door we were important people.

Sadly, old age came quickly. He morphed from a healthy active wild man, into a wobbly old guy like me.

Finally, subdued by age, a failing heart, and barely able to bark, he left us. But the wagging tail and unconditional enthusiasm, though diminished, remained to the very last.

I miss him terribly.

How a dog brands itself so indelibly on the hearts of some of us mystifies me.  Logically, we shouldn’t care that much.  It’s a dog.

But there is a story that makes it all clear.  It comes from American Indian lore.

When God created the world, he knew he’d have to separate man from the lesser creatures.

So the earth trembled and a great rift appeared, tearing the first man and woman from the rest of the animal kingdom.

As the chasm grew deeper and wider, other creatures, afraid for their lives, returned to the forest—except for the dog, who after much consideration, leapt the perilous rift to stay with the humans.

His love for humanity was greater than his bond to other creatures, he explained, so he willingly forfeited his place in paradise to prove it.

I believe every word of that.

See you on the other side, little guy.

Dan McNeil,
Cartridge World on Campbell

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