woof

for the love of dog

Have you ever met Kirby Lickeychops Delsante?

You'd know if you did. He was my best friend in the whole world and every day, the pit bull shaped hole in my life gets deeper and darker and feels like a world I'm starting to forget or neglect and sometimes, sometimes, all I want to do is crawl into that hole, fall for a million years like Gandalf and the Balrog, and somehow find my dog again.

It's not about missing a pet. We have outside cats that we call ours, but really, all we do is feed them, pet them, hold them, etc. until they want off of our laps. The matriarch of our cat clan, Luna, disappeared a few weeks ago. She had just birthed a litter, we think, and we couldn't find them. One day, Luna just didn't come back. She was old, so it's entirely possible she's GONE gone. I miss her, but it's nothing I've shed tears over. It's easy to move on when you have her daughter and a new kitten to keep you company.

I remember the week we put Kasey down, our blind cocker spaniel. That was rough.. Sadie was only a few months old, Kirby was a little lost without her, and Michelle, who had her from newborn puppy age, was devastated. I only had her in my life for six years, and I couldn't walk by her bowl, or wear my army jacket that she curled up in on road trips, without beginning to cry.

But Kirby. Kirby was my boy. He was my shadow. We adopted him after our second miscarriage. I put my soul into him. I took him everywhere I could. I just wanted to be around him because, well, he wanted to be around me. I needed that kind of blind loyalty, I guess. That unconditional love that you can only get from a dog, really.

I've been going through some…strong emotions these past few days, especially in the last 24 hours. I turned 53 Tuesday (or, as I think of it, I've survived 53 years and have started my 54th) and I went through a gamut of feelings. And tonight, I just wished my dog was here, in bed between my wife and me.

What is it about pets? What is it about dogs? It's a question I'll never get an answer for. If God exists, and I get to ask, I don't know that any answer would sate my appetite for understanding. There's just some mysteries that the universe or a deity can't answer with any semblance of satisfaction. Because the answer is childish, or rather childlike, and the answer is dependent on intellectual and scientific explanation, when all that needs to be explained is wonder. It's sensory sometimes; primal in a sense. I can smell him sometimes, just in passing. I'm too stubborn to believe in ghosts, but I want to believe that's exactly what it is; a visitation from my best friend. But I don't want him to visit.

I wish he'd stay.