The Price of Furry Love
Life isn’t always fair, or kind. Life is just a series of highs and lows, good and bad, struggle and success. It is certainly not a pursuit of happiness and if that’s the goal for a successful life, failure is inevitable.
For my entire life a dog of some kind has been by my side. I know each of their names, etched in my heart, never forgotten, recalling each unique personality trait or anecdote from the life of a forever giving creature whose goal in life is pleasing and loving. The quirky and silly little habits of each pup is cherished and remembered despite the passage of time. Any dog lover will tell you; losing a dog is gut wrenching. Dogs have no agenda; they love purely and fully. Carefree in their love, no walls up worrying about being hurt or struggles being vulnerable. They lay it all on the line and give without expectation.
Although I joke, and complain about having 3 dogs, and dramatize the responsibilities, I dread the day their time is up. And for one of my fur babies, that day has arrived.
When we adopted Benji, born as Ben and Jerry’s Mudslide, and known as Muddy for a brief time, this boy was the most gorgeous chocolate lab you’ve ever seen. Or maybe it’s the mother in me that sees all my children as beauties, but he was handsome and regal, but at heart a real goofball. We often joked he was the million-dollar dog, with numerous severe health issues he flirted with death many times, and thanks to an incredible team at Oradell Animal Hospital he lived to see another day; another year of pets and walks and belly rubs, and always with a smiling pink tongue and wagging chocolate tail banging against anything in its way.
The day Benji came home with me he was just over a year old and had already struggled with health issues. His elbows already diagnosed as a problem, and he would be crippled at a young age without surgery. My parents and I searched the entire country for elbow specialists good enough for Benji. Weeks of keeping a Labrador puppy from running and jumping after surgery while raising 3 little girls presented its challenges, but he smiled and wagged his tail through the struggles. Benji not only lived through elbow surgery, but a gastrointestinal resection (which most said was certain death), and a bleeding ulcer.
While we remember and marvel at the medical miracle Benji was it was his big heart and sweetness that will be remembered. Benji was the favorite of every guest in our home. He stole hearts on the regular. His wide smile, pink lapping tongue and engaging eyes could win over even the most hardened. His paws naturally turned out like a ballerina in first position, and he pranced lifting his paws in a charming silly gallop causing giggles even in the most trying of life’s moments. He loved the constant action in our home and the attention he naturally received, or demanded by pawing at your hand or barking in you face. He loved to love and be loved. And I get it, I share his sentiment. While his profuse shedding and slobber wasn’t always appreciated, we will be searching for the chocolate tufts of fur and goops of slobber marking our clean clothes. This boy will be missed deeply. Our hearts are aching, as life doles out tragic inevitable blows that we have no choice but to navigate. There’s no big lesson or ideas for contemplation here, just the acknowledgment of life’s fragility and the certainty of time moving forward. The certainty of life’s rollercoaster of emotions and circumstances. The certainty of Benji’s love and loyalty, always giving way to a smile. I can shut my eyes, conjuring his smile and warm eyes, and find a smile through the tears as we say goodbye to a boy who was loved every day.
Many friends, family and doctors tell me Benji was lucky to have us as his family because we saved him several times from certain death, but it’s clear, we were the lucky ones. We had the opportunity to provide for him, love him, live with him, look into those sweet brown loving eyes, and melt from his charm. We are the lucky ones, and if a broken heart is the price we need to pay for the gift of having Benji, we will gladly pay again and again.