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| Shelby with human siblings, Ashley, Jack & Julia - December 2009 |
Our dog, Shelby, is the
reddest of red golden retrievers with a fiery personality to match. She came into our lives two and a half years
ago, at a time when our family needed a little bit of glue and a whole lot of healing. She turned out to be all that and then
some. Though she has never uttered a
word, she has transformed our home and our hearts forever.
My son and I sat by the fire
with Shelby late one night after learning our friends had to put their beloved
12 year old chocolate lab to sleep, the second dog they have said good-bye to
in just two short years. Sadly, this is
one of numerous stories of such losses in our circle as of late. We were quietly petting our dog and
pondering, both of us knowing that their pain and loss would one day be ours
too. These same friends were
instrumental in inspiring, encouraging, even helping us adopt Shelby. Our hearts ached for them, and it occurred to
me that getting and losing a dog seem like such common, everyday things, yet
what happens in between is quite extraordinary really.
I was not the dog-owning type
before Shelby. I prefer order and peace
to clutter and chaos, clean floors and a tidy abode to muddy paws and dog
hair. I’m out-numbered by kiddos and I
know my limits. I have spent many cold
nights outside at the wee hours in my pajamas training our furry little
interloper thinking “WHAT have I gotten myself into??” After a fair amount of alpha tug-o-war, puppy
kindergarten and obedience classes, not to mention the inevitable household
doggie damage and enough paper towels to occupy a small landfill, Shelby
finally seems to know who buys the kibble in our house and has settled into her
rightful rank in our family, below me and somewhere among her human siblings. (Said humans are not as easy to teach these
basic concepts, but that is another article.)
We often joke that we live in a large dog house where people also happen
to reside. Loving Shelby as we do
though, we wouldn’t have it any other way.
In just two and a half years,
she has cemented lessons of responsibility, kindness, love, loyalty, devotion,
enthusiasm and joy that would have taken me years to instill in my troops. She has become a silent partner of sorts,
underscoring what I already know, talk/nag less, do/love more.
Perhaps it is I, who has
undergone the greatest transformation.
What began as a promise kept to my son has taught me to keep my mind and
heart open to opportunities and experiences outside of my comfort zone. To my
surprise, I have discovered that people and creatures come in and out of our
lives and no matter how briefly they are a part of our story, there are lessons
to be learned. I have learned to never
underestimate the power of a warm greeting and that regardless of weather, a
little outdoor cardio each day is good for the soul. I now overlook the paw prints and tumbleweeds
of hair and embrace the imperfections that are a part of every home and
life. It is beneath these imperfections
where the real stories lie. Some happy,
others painful, but together they make us who we are, if not more interesting
and better people.
Shelby has infiltrated parts
of my heart I never knew existed, or maybe had just long forgotten. To this
day, it melts me a little each time I watch her run from window to window, a
chosen toy in her mouth, actually watching and waiting for her “pack” to
return. I live acutely aware that one
day in the not too distant future, when there are no longer paws to wipe or pet
store trips to make, there will be an emptiness in my home, but a richness left
in my heart created by her beautiful little life which we were blessed to
briefly share.
I recently saw a bone-shaped
dog tag that succinctly and perfectly sums up our experience. It read “I rescued my humans.”
