Last month, John and I went on a “St. Paul Cemetery Tour”, led by an elderly woman, who has made it her job to research these old cemeteries and its famous (or infamous) residents. Stories are her specialty, and she had plenty to share. We ended our 3-week Saturday morning tours at a pet cemetery. As we headed toward this last stop, John muttered, “Didn’t Stephen King write a book called Pet Cemetery?” Uh, not quite the same thing. His book was titled “Pet Sematary” and was, like nearly all his books, and the movie, completely terrifying.
This pet cemetery was not at all terrifying. In fact, it overflowed with love for our 4-legged (and some 2-legged) animals. Indeed, Mitzy and Scotchie and Baby and Rex were much loved in their lives. Their stones say things like, “We will always love you”, “Let his loyalty and devotion be a lesson to us all”, “No longer by our side, but forever in our hearts”, and, always, “We miss you”. We do love our animals.
Which brings me to today’s JOY. My dog, Dodger. Dodger is a miniature poodle of indeterminate age. We got him from “Underdog Rescue” in 2015. They told us that they thought he was 5 years old, but since he was rescued from a “puppy mill” (you can Google that phrase, but I would strongly discourage it – it is too traumatizing to see how some breeders treat dogs), we just don’t know. Dodger is a unique, very unique, little animal. He does not bark. Let me repeat that: he does not bark. Being that his predecessor, Chester, barked incessantly, this characteristic makes Dodger worth his weight (all 13 lbs.) in gold. We not know why he doesn’t bark (except in his sleep – little whimpers), but we think it must have to do with the fact that he learned pretty early on that barking in his little cage pretty much got him nowhere, so he just gave up. The other thing he does not do is wag his tail. Again, perhaps wagging his tail proved futile early on. Ditto for playing, or should I say not playing, fetch. He will go on a walk, but when you pull out the leash, he seems pretty indifferent to it all. “Sure, I’ll go if you want me to. But I’m basically doing it for you.” In fact, he is pretty much not a dog. More like a furry bit of play-do, whom you can put anywhere, and he won’t bug you. He will snuggle with me, but only for a while. He will sleep with me, but again, only if he wants to, which isn’t always. He’s almost like a cat in many ways. Will or will not do what you hope he will do, and always based on what he is in the mood for.
So why does this malleable little piece of fur give me joy? Because he adores me. He is completely attached to me. Smitten. Imprinted on me. He always has one eye on me at all times. When I go upstairs, he waits a while, and if it is clear I am not returning soon, he’ll follow. When I am gone, my husband tells me that Dodger just watches the door for me. When I get home, well, he is overjoyed (at least I think he is – hard to tell, since he doesn’t wag his tail). I have to say, it is very nice to have someone (something?) adore you and love you so much. My husband might say he adores and loves me too, but honestly, Dodger does it without talking back. Ever.
I do understand on some level this is just my ego talking. Scientists still seem to be on the fence as to whether dogs can actually feel the emotion of love, although most of us certainly believe (hope) they do. In any case, we all have the need to be needed. And Dodger fills that need for me.
When our dog, Chester, died, I was stunned at the grief I felt. I honestly could hardly get out of bed. I cried all day long. So, I understand the pet cemetery. People really do love their dogs, and cats, and even bunnies and birds, which are buried there.
I love my dog, Dodger, and he brings me great joy.