Three sleeps until I meet Arysha.
She was born in Russia, bred and shipped to America. By three she’d had two litters and was acquired by a Canadian military vet with a passion for the breed. The cross-border dog trade is a big one, pandemics be damned. By then she’d been chipped and registered in the States. Turns out the Canadian canine cops would not accept her creds. Future puppies would be offbook. And so Arysha became a free agent.
Perhaps you’ve noticed how dogs romp daily through this blog. It’s hard to recall exactly when, in the 14-year history of this weird site the symbolism emerged. But it seemed inevitable in a world where, deep down, people are shallow. We chase wealth, celebrate greed and are relentlessly materialistic. The real estate mania. Unearned net worth. Riding a meme stock or a crypto. Routinely people confuse investing with gambling and celebrate their gain at another’s expense. In the world of money, life is a contest. You win, or you’re a failure.
Dogs don’t get this. Jealousy, avarice and disdain are unknowns in their world. They live in the moment. Death is an abstraction. Possessions have no value compared to those things which matter – companionship, play, devotion and duty. As I age my conclusion is dogs have principles. People have ambitions. Dogs follow instincts. We are slaves to emotion. They are consistent. We flounder.
Thus dogs have come to rule here. Seems we have much to learn as a species. For all of our wisdom and prowess we still spend entire lives chasing inconsequential goals and measure success with bent yardsticks. The goal of life is not a house. Experience means more than stuff. Freedom is precious. Loyalty and truth matter. Relationships above all. If you bond with one true friend in life, you are wealthy.
It’s said dogs can live short, full lives since no time’s wasted learning to be good. It’s innate. Not all of them are sociable, of course. Some are taught by humans to be mean, fierce or territorial but they are exceptions. They did not come that way.
It’s been seven months since my friend left. I decided to walk every day imagining he was still by my side, in that slow, old-dog shuffle. So thankful for all those years, but every step hurts. It’s time.