This week I was walking with my dawg Tucker in the middle of an insect ridden swamp, when it dawned on me why we all love our pets so much – why we love animals. (And for the record, those who don’t like animals and see no reason to have an animal in their life are soulless entities that deserve no love!:) I believe that one of the main reasons we love our pets is because – they don’t talk “humanese”! Seriously. Imagine if they COULD talk? Especially after the things they’ve seen or heard from us. But since they can’t talk to us, we assume they don’t judge. I mean, all we get from them is unconditional love. How do we know this? Because they greet us every morning and every time we come home, with so much happiness that they can’t keep their butt still. (Sorry cat owners, it’s a dog thing. You wouldn’t get it.) We also know they don’t judge because they seem to forgive. Sure they might have a hard time trusting people after they’ve experienced consistent inhumane treatment, but it takes an awful lot of inhumanity (emphasis on AWFUL) for a dog not to forgive.
So I’ve decided that I’m going to try to be more of a dog. Not the “slimeball douchebag guy at the bar” dog. I’m going be more like my dawg Tucker. Tucker The Wonder Dawg. When Tucker was just a pup he was accidentally run over and almost died. One moment Tucker was running alongside of a truck filled with people on a private country property with a big ol’ smile on his face, tongue hanging out, anxious to be with the people that were in the truck, happy to go wherever the people were going, happy just to be running beside the people. He didn’t need to be IN the truck. He was just happy to be near the people. And the next moment, in his happiness and in his naiveness, he cut in front of the 4,500 pound truck, probably just to get closer to the people on the other side. I heard the horrific howls and yelps from around the corner. Even though I didn’t see it, I knew immediately what had just happened and bolted to my dawg’s side. The vet determined that he had multiple lacerations, a broken jaw, broken ribs, and a punctured lung that couldn’t retain the pressure needed to keep him breathing. He was suffocating to death. Being told to come back to the clinic to say a final goodbye to Tucker was brutal. Sobbing brutal.
Three years later, Tucker holds no grudges against the person who drove over him. Quite the opposite. He loves that person and actually smiles when he sees them. He’s forgiven them. Now, you might say, “C’mon Drew. You’re taking this a bit far don’t you think? We’re talking about a dog. A dog doesn’t have the mental capacity to think about things the way we humans do. The reason the dog was run over was because he did something stupid – because he’s a dog with a dog brain. The reason he doesn’t hold any grudges is because he’s a dog with a dog brain. The reason he’s so happy to see you every morning and every time you come home is because he’s a dog with a dog brain. You’re reading way too much into this.”
I wish I was more like Tucker The Wonder Dawg. I want to greet people with such enthusiasm that my butt can’t keep still. I want to forgive people so thoroughly that I can’t even remember how they’ve wronged me. I want to stop judging the things I’ve heard and seen people do.
Maybe that’s why dogs don’t live very long. Because it would be inhumane for them to endure more “humanity”. I hope I can become more like Tucker The Wonder Dawg before I die. His enthusiasm about people. His unconditional love. His aversion to judgmentalism. His forgiveness. JESUS!
At this point, the closest I come to being like Tucker The Wonder Dawg is when I have my days of silence.
Spiritual Benefit During My 14th Day Of Silence = 2/10