Abby the Labby Number Nine agrees with me. It was if she just heard the words “Everything Happens For a Reason” either as they paraded through my head or she can decode keyboarding. Maybe a M sounds a lot different than an A and so forth. When I looked down into her dark chocolate eyes, saw that her ears suggest that I received her message, she followed up my gaze with, “Yes. Yes, it is time for another walk. You wouldn’t be looking at me if it weren’t. That happened for a reason.
Maybe I have been influenced by the latest Heineken commercial.
I had to look away or those almost jet-black eyes would have taken my mind and soul. If I wanted to do more writing and less walking, I had to break the bond. She’s not done. A slight whimper and sighs behind my chair suggest boredom and neglect. When Ricky is feeling this ways, he cuts through all of these games in trying to elicit a reaction by jumping on me, sometimes planting a lolling slow-motion lick as if I were the flavor of the month.
Ricky is my latest of experiences to confirm that Everything Happens For a Reason. Good and Bad.
Mr. Jules Sandoz Honthumb introduced me to Labradorship. So much like a beagle in always keeping his nose down, but a lot more loyal. He stuck by me. It’s been more than five years since I had to say goodbye to Jules, and I can’t write about him without tears coming to my eyes.
Bad things happen. Especially in the dog world. Seldom are stories about dogs are without death and sadness. They just don’t live long enough.
They live life knowing this, knowing that their time is fleeting, and they make the most of the situation. There are too many smells to follow, things to eat, and cats to chase, as well as anything else that will run. Play now is all they think.It’s most likely they don’t think about how much time they have left. They have the gift in the ability to not judge whether their time is being spent wisely. It is what it is, neither good or bad. Some days are filled with a lot of playing; while other days more naps occur.
For a brief moment, I felt a twinge of guilt. Abby had asked if I could do something other than sit in front of my computer. She obviously wasn’t content on napping the rest of the evening away.
The Big If has landed in my lap. If Jules hadn’t died more than five years ago, would I still be working at the Willamette Leadership Academy. I would have been on my tenth year. Perhaps I would have risen to the ranks of running the show instead of watching the metaphorical tail lights riding off into the sunset. It’s possible, though not probably that Jules would be with me today. Fourteen in dog years is older than ancient.
And the Big Because is sleeping near my feet. I wouldn’t have gone out searching for another Chocolate Dog, a substitute to patch up my broken heart. I wouldn’t have met Ricky. The big If in Ricky’s lap, that if Jules hadn’t died on the operating table the day after my birthday, Ricky might not have been rescued. He certainly wouldn’t be as spoiled.