I started Early—took my Dog—

6 September 2013 § Leave a comment

6 September

Our household (read: mother and I) floats weepingly through this day as we contemplate the imminent death of our dog.  In a feeble state, he cannot walk very well, but he looks happy, and we make slow perambulations round the house.  How is it possible to love an animal who does nothing? (asked I).  Oh, but it is possible, but he does so much (replied mother).  One gets a pet and loves it, knowing that it will die, and then the time comes for it to die, and death appears sudden and rude.  How vulgar, really, to pluck a pet-love—worse almost than such an ending of human-love, which is at least tied enough to time to transcend time.  Perhaps pet-love can turn transcendent, though—a mystery, for a dog’s thoughts unveil themselves through intuition only.  Mostly he is just there, watching, witnessing, being in a way that, in retrospect, ties things together—for fifteen years, most of my life.

Dogs exhibit perfect cyclical days.  Or this dog does, at least.  Awake, eat, receive pets after the human’s breakfast, walk, lap water, wander, receive pets after the human’s lunch, wander, eat, find and inhabit centre of evening human sociability, drink water, sleep.  Add ablutions and it would be religious.  They are monklike in a way: cloistered, ministering (albeit unknowingly) to unspoken human needs, yielding to the day and its ways, yet maintaining (though in large part not from self-created exigency) time-bound discipline.

Cineri gloria sera est, so here it is now.

Oh Sammy.



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