There is a really good editors message in Cooks Illustrated magazine this month. (There usually is a really good one in each issue, by the way.) In that message, the editor recounts visiting an elderly neighbor, dying of cancer. Simply showing respect. I guess I have been too cowardly, most of my life, to show this respect. Maybe it is not cowardice but rather selfishness. Trying to adjust to an impending loss has not been one of my stronger points. How often have I delayed putting an animal -- no! not an animal; a member of the family who is suffering -- to sleep? Probably too often. I just didnt want to take the responsibility, in part because I hoped too much and in part because it was simply too painful. I learned from Luke that I was too selfish to give him relief from pain and suffering. I failed in my responsibility to him. . .he who gave me so much pleasure and amusement during his lifetime. Luke was my first black lab. He was a used dog. Not abused, mind you. At six years old, his owners could no longer keep him and put him up for adoption to a good home for free. I had just taken my wifes, Louise, dog -- a lasha apso with a bad attitude -- to be put to sleep because he nipped my mother-in-law and was nipping at the toddler (my step-granddaughter who we ultimately raised as our own daughter). We wanted another dog, but could not afford one. I was in law school (my final year) at the time, and I perused the pet for sale ads in the local newspaper when I came across the ad for Luke. I inquired if he was still available and was assured he was. My wife and I went to see him. What a beautiful dog! LuKe was an American lab: the big boned, big bodied, big headed Lab. I fell in love with him and, after walking him, discussed whether to take him (as I felt I needed Louises consent). Thinking she concurred, I agreed to give Luke a good home. Got the dog in the car and Louise said I cant believe you are taking that HORSE! Got home and took the dog into the house and he immediately visited my mother-in-law who gasped and said THAT is a DOG! I should add that shortly before I went to see the dog, I was informed that my mother had died. That may have contributed to my lack of discretion in getting Luke. Luke was with us for nearly an additional six or seven years. He was a sneaky SOB (in this case, in the real sense of the phrase!), going to the property line, looking to see if he could make a break for it, and then running away -- to visit (and, apparently, service) all the female dogs in the neighborhood. On summer day, Luke was out of the pen keeping me company as I did lawn work. A 20-something female fast walker in cute short shorts came walking by. Luke ignored her, went in the opposite direction of her travel to water the telephone pole, then turned to follow her. He snuck up behind her -- before I could intervene -- and goosed her with his cold wet nose. Luke ultimately began experiencing back problems and ultimately could not go up and down stairs. He would lie on his bed and whimper and cry. I kept feeding him pain pills and anti-inflammatories for a year before I gave up hope. I learned my lesson from Luke. Love sometimes requires giving up something that you dearly love. And I guess that goes to giving up women (or partners) who you really dearly love, as well as dogs . . . or cats . . . or whatever. And as I write this, a song by John Stewart runs through my mind,the lyrics in part: The wise man learns to forgive her For all shes done to him. But I willl go on loving you, Its easier that way. But you cant go back to Kansas, Cause that was yesterday. (You Cant Go Back To Kansas).
Posted on: Fri, 08 Nov 2013 01:44:59 +0000
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