praise of an old dog

kimrhodes4:

“Mom! Can we go to the dog park? Pleeeeeeeease?”

I looked down at my daughter and my dog, Linus, who stared at me.

When I was younger, unmarried, and doing repertory Shakespeare in Oregon fifteen years ago, I stayed in a house owned by two of the loveliest humans ever. After the shows were all up and running, I called them and asked if they had children. When they said no, I responded, “Then I’m going to give you an experience you may have missed out on. PLEASE CAN I HAVE A DOG PLEASE CAN I HAVE A DOG PLEASE CAN I HAVE A DOG PLEASE CAN I HAVE A DOG PLE-“

They said yes. I went to the pound and found Linus, is the short version of the story.

Linus is a mixture of Mostly Border Collie, Probably Some Pit, and Various Questionable Other, according to my keen and practiced eye. But mostly Border Collie. When I adopted him, he was about four months old and full of boundless energy and intelligence, mixed with a teensy dollop of fear that one expects in a dog who has experienced a life that leads to incarceration. He was perfect.

I love what I see in puppies. I see unparalleled optimism and glee. I see a zest and love of life that nothing can deter. I see spirits determined to wrestle every drop of joy from every playmate they encounter, even if it’s their own tail. I adore puppies.

Linus is no longer a puppy. He trips when there are no obstacles and barks when there is no alarm. He wanders into a room and stops with an expression I remember from my father’s face right before he would ask if anyone had seen his glasses that were perched on top of his head. Linus is not filled with boundless energy and his intelligence cannot fully express itself through his muddled mind and stiff body. True, he seems pretty fearless, but that could be senility. I didn’t see the point of taking him to the dog park.

“Pleeeeeeeease? Look, he’s smiling. He wants to go!”

More to kill time than because I agreed, I acquiesced. We went to the dog park. And, spoiler alert…. my dog is still perfect.

Huskies zoomed and Chihuahuas barked. Pit Bulls wrestled in the dust and the Australian Shepherd tried desperately to restore order to the situation. Cola, the lab puppy, pranced from group to group as each one distracted him with offers of EVEN MORE FUN! And Linus slowly and methodically peed a few times, then found a tennis ball.

My heart broke as I wondered what on earth he planned to do with it. He couldn’t outrun the Labradoodle who would surely take it away from him the second it left his mouth. He probably wouldn’t be able to even SEE it past ten feet. But when he dutifully brought it over to me, I looked into his eyes and he smiled.

Unparalleled optimism and glee. Zest. Love of life that nothing can deter. A spirit determined to wrestle every drop of joy from every playmate he encounters. And now, he says, if you can see it in me, you can find it in you.

We played fetch for an hour. He would hand me the ball, waddle a few feet, and I would throw it to him. Occasionally he would catch it, even! Often he would approach someone else with the ball, being the fair-minded and inclusive spirit he is. Every single person he met was enthralled by him. “He’s fifteen? He’s amazing! Still so happy!”

My old dog isn’t meant to learn new tricks. He’s meant to teach them to me.