Gracie

Dogs.

Can’t live without them.

At least I can’t.

I’ve had a dog in my life since I was 4 years old—that’s more than a half century of mutts, mixes, rescues and retrievers. There’s been a cat or two along the way, two birds, hamsters, gerbils, a snake and my son’s bearded dragon. Hopkins was an acquired taste, but a good chap, nonetheless.

But the one constant has been a dog. Thank goodness for those four-legged love bugs.

I happen to believe that dogs are enjoying a “moment” these days.

Social media has made dogs stars. In fact, one can make an argument that the biggest beneficiary of social media is the dog, with cats also benefiting from the exposure on YouTube, Instagram, Tik Tok and Facebook. Cats seem to rule Blue Sky, the new platform developed after X went full toxic waste dump.

But dogs, those furry, funny, fantastic creatures–well they are a cut above in my opinion.

We have two at present.

Gracie, a five year old golden retriever and Emmitt, a five year old chihuahua/lion mix whose temperament would have made him a great heavyweight boxer. Unfortunately, he’s an MMA fighter trapped in a tiny body.

Still, when he and his 65-pound sister go at it, we worry about Gracie getting hurt. In true golden form, Gracie puts up with a lot and never complains. Many a time I have come into the living room and found Emmitt hanging by his teeth off of Gracie’s lip or ear. She of course seems amused by it all. I’m convinced that if humanity got a dose of Golden Retriever DNA we’d never have a war, or even a bad day.

If you look up “good” in the dictionary it wouldn’t surprise me if it had a picture of our beautiful golden girl.

Still, Emmitt has his charms. First, he’s adorable with soulful brown eyes that look at us with gratitude. He’s fiercely loyal and loves us a whole lot.

Diane rescued him three years ago after his owners were murdered in a horrendous 4th of July tragedy in Texas. A Maine based rescue drove across the country to get him and a few other abandoned dogs and we were fortunate to be chosen as his new family. They rescue us too, you know.

Diane and our son Sasha met the rescue caravan on the Maine/New Hampshire line and after a few days rest and relaxation in Portland they made the long drive back to Delray to meet Gracie.

It was love at first sight for all of us.

Emmitt

Randy was rescued by Animal Rescue Force.

That’s how it is with dogs and very few other things in life. We have a mystical connection to our pets.

People have commitment issues, romances ebb and flow, we gain and lose friends, but once a dog sets its eyes on you it’s game over. The love is instant, deep and eternal.

Only ‘eternal’ is just a few years. Yes, dogs don’t live long enough and when you lose one it stings. Last week, three of my friends lost their dogs. My heart aches for them. It’s a real and enduring loss.

I still think of all the great ones I’ve lost along the way—Tina who was struck by a car right in front of me, Rusty and Snowball who lived long lives and saw me through from grade school to college and beyond, Magnum a magnificent golden who loved my children and endured “dress up” and endless games of fetch and Casey who was said to be shy but who warmed up as soon as she left her foster home. She jumped in the car with our family and never looked back.

Casey’s description on the Everglades Golden Retriever Rescue website played ABBA’s “Take a Chance on Me” when you clicked on it.  We did and we had a marvelous run which included lots of visits for pup cups at Kilwin’s downtown.

During Casey’s reign, Diane adopted Randy, another feisty chihuahua from the Animal Rescue Force, a wonderful nonprofit that used to set up shop in the CRA parking lot during Delray Affair.

I remember meeting Randy for the first time. He bit me. But within days it was all good. That cool chi was with us for almost two decades.

When it came time to let him go. The wonderful Dr. Jim Grubb came to the house. I couldn’t bear to watch. I’m not proud of that, but I just couldn’t. We said our goodbyes and I walked outside speaking to the heavens and asking that they take care of my brave little guy. Dr. Grubb always sends a card that talks about the Rainbow Bridge. I figure it’s true, because if anyone would know, Jim would. We will see our friends again—waiting for us on the other side of the bridge.

We added another rescue named Sophie who was found running the streets of Miami. We loved Sophie a lot. She was killed one day while on a walk in our neighborhood by an unleashed dog. For months, I couldn’t go down that street. I think about little Sophie often.

After that devastating incident, Randy helped us welcome Teddy, another golden rescue (thank you Golden Retrievals) and Teddy…well he became a Facebook legend. Cancer took my soul dog too young, but I still see his handsome face when I reach for my phone. He’s my screensaver. A life saver too. That dog was something special.

They all are.

After Covid, which was almost lights out for me, I asked Diane if she would consider another golden.  I just feel happiest when there’s a golden in my life.

She agreed. And soon puppy Gracie joined us. She makes us happy—every day. I’ve never seen a sweeter dog. She loves everyone.

I’m moved to write this after a hectic month of travel without our dogs. I miss them horribly when I’m gone. But when we came home, we’re greeted like The Beatles at Shea Stadium.

Yes, dogs are a major responsibility. They require love and attention. They shed and they feel very entitled to your meals. Goldens are like Velcro, there’s no privacy with a golden around. Everything brought into the house is sniffed, scrutinized and checked to see if it’s edible.

Mail gets shredded. Stuffed animals get eaten and everyone who comes to visit is fair game for lots of affection or in Emmitt’s case barking.

It’s all a joy.

And oh, so short.

Now if only I can figure out how to get this duo to like the long car ride from Florida to Maine.

Here’s a poem that says what I just tried too much better than I can.

By Billy Collins

As young as I look,

I am growing older faster than he,

seven to one

is the ratio they tend to say.

Whatever the number,

I will pass him one day

and take the lead

the way I do on our walks in the woods.

And if this ever manages

to cross his mind,

it would be the sweetest

shadow I have ever cast on snow or grass.