I like words and their meanings. It’s not unusual for me to find a scribbled note about a new word I’ve come across and written down to remember. Just the other day I saw where I had jotted the word “synesthesia” on the corner of a folder. It’s a beautiful, mysterious-sounding word. “Sin ess theez’ ya” –according to an article in Scientific American– is a neurological condition where individuals “hear colors, feel sounds and taste shapes.”
While a word like synesthesia has one specific meaning, ordinary words can often convey distinct meanings dependent on context and individual understanding. Consider the simple word “here.” I keep a poem by Roy Lessin propped up on my bathroom vanity mirror so that I read it every single morning. It begins with: “Just think. You’re here not by chance, but by God’s choosing.”
This specific here, washing the night’s sleep from my face, could mean HERE—alive this new morning of a day filled with possibility. Another here could be HERE-part of my family. A different interpretation of here could mean HERE-a member of a church family or a civic organization, or HERE-an employee of a company. If we consider the concept of mindfulness, HERE could mean fully present, paying undivided attention to the person with us or to our surroundings.
A line from a hymn often used at funerals says, “Here for a season, then above, Oh Lamb of God, I come, I come.” None of us knows how long our individual “here for a season” time will be. We each have our own season of existence. But when we take on the responsibility of owning and loving a dog, we hide away in the back of our minds our rational understanding that a dog’s season of existence in good health is typically around twelve years. Sometimes it’s a couple years more, sometimes a couple less.
That is such a fraction of the time we hope our own lives will be that it doesn’t seem fair. It’s not enough time for us to love them. Yet it’s the time we’re given.
This week marked the death of Scooter Thatcher-Lovo. She was about ten and like many very sick dogs, hid her failing health until nearly the end. Her vet told our family, “If I were as sick as Scooter, I wouldn’t be able to move.” And yet there was Scootie, alert, still giving kisses, ears perking up as she heard other dogs outside her room in the animal hospital. She was, until the final moment, the sweet, gentle being she had always been. Scooter was HERE, in our lives, and will always be loved.
To my readers – give your pet an extra hug today and share any comment you choose.
Our family has had many pets, both dogs and cats, pass through our lives. Each time one of them ended their life here on Earth was very hard for us, but I would remind myself that if not for us they may have had a short and very difficult life. For all the pet owners/animal lovers reading this blog, after you dry your tears, google Rainbow Bridge and you will start looking forward to the time when you will see your dear pets again!!! AND please remember all those dear animals who are in a shelter (there are plenty of full-blooded breeds there too if you prefer such) and need a forever home or even one you happen upon out there in the sometimes cold and cruel world to consider adding one of them to your loving home. My dearest friend Norma, who is the “master” of this blog, did just that with Zeus, a severely neglected dog in my neighborhood, who has since become Riley Cramer Thatcher in his very own forever home! Thank you and bless you, Norma … and Richard too!!!
I will share a short story about all the dogs we have had at our house during the 53 years we have been married. I will tell you that we never bought any of them. When you live in the country along a rural road with not too many houses on it, you never have to buy a dog (or any animal). When we celebrated our 50th wedding anniversary a few years ago, one of the questions on the “How Well Do You Know Denny and Bev” questionnaire was, “Name as many dogs as you can that Denny and Bev have had over the past 50 years.” I couldn’t even remember all of them – but I think we came up with a total of 15. Most of them lived a long life – and you never had to worry about your children playing in the backyard when you had two German Shepherds protecting them. Most of them are buried at the back of our property. The crosses with their names crudely etched into the wood are gone now, but the stories and memories we have of them could fill a book. RIP – Cookie, Blackie, Sparky, Daisy, Katie, Sarge, Pooch, Tina, Cuda, Kelly, Mindy, Rusty, Stubby, Frank, & George