One day, I went outside to play and my mom quickly shooed me back inside. My dad looked upset and was hurrying to the street corner, a house away, and out of view.
Turns out, my dog was run over...
Everyone was upset and I don't think the concept had sunk in, for me. The reaction, the decision, was to get another dog.
Prince, I remember much clearer.
He followed me as I left the confines of my yard, jumping the rusted chain fence, to accompany me, in my travels. I would hug him so hard that he would growl and pull away. He was a big black collie, with lots of hair. I used to laugh, when my dad gave him a bath. It seemed he'd lost half his weight, half his volume, when his hair was soaked and clinging to him.
One summer, a few years later, late in July, I was feeling overly rambunctious, with no one to wrestle with. Prince was laying outside, panting in the shade. I ran, gave him a hug and he growled then nipped.
I should have known, but Ignorant, I hugged him again, and he bit hard, into my face...
Lots of blood and yelling, my parents ran out and immediately knew what had happened.
They knew that it was not Princes fault. He warned me and so had they. It wasn't a big deal. My face healed, I learned better, and the scars made me look kind of cool...
A few years later, unfortunately, the same scenario took place, except this time, he bit a neighborhood friend with Down Syndrome. Did about the same amount of damage....
I tried telling myself it was nobody's fault, but I knew it was mine, for not keeping him home when I went to play whiffle ball, at the firehouse.
It was reported, and when asked if he had bitten in the past, a history, my parents said yes, describing the incident a few short, preceding summers ago.
Short story long, Prince made a trip " Upstate, to a nice farm"...
I'm not a "dog person", anymore...
I like them and they like me, well enough, but I never make a habit of remembering their names. I just call them "dog".
No need to establish a more personal relationship...
My brother, on the other hand, could not conceive of a canine-free existence. He's had dogs his entire adult life.
Me, I never understood it...
Why risk your heart, bank balance and time, for something that's just going to die or leave you?
My brother has a much bigger and better heart than I. Every dog he gets, he loves totally. He is one of those people who calls his dogs his " kids"...
I never understood that. Always, when I heard it, I became judgemental, condescending, even...
Of course, he never understood how people can adore babies. I would watch his confused look, as one of the trio of our McMonkey babies would puke, drooze snot or exceed a diapers diarrhea capacity.
The same way I look at him, letting his dog lick his face...
He is the first to admit that he doesn't "get" that...
It took awhile to realize I don't have to " get it".
And neither does he...
What I do understand, is that you can't quantify or qualify love.
We humans have never been able to do that, thru-out our entire history.
To paraphrase a line from Jurassic Park ,
" Love will always find a way"...
We restrict, catoragize and define our vision of it, but the scope, we have never fully encompassed it's magnitude...
I don't need to know who you love.
I just want to know that you do love...
I need to know that deep inside, we all have something or someone that matters more than our own overly fragile and completely inadequate understanding...
Something that we, ourselves can't explain the whys and wherefores of...
That magic thing that we value more than ourselves...
For me, it is my Wonderful Wife and our boys.
There is much more, but they are my core.
God and they, are that defining circle...
All circles are precious, to those they encompass.
I "get" that...
That's all I "need" to know...
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