Not Just A Pet

Sometimes people have a 'dog' and it is only that - a dog. For some, pets don't become a member of the family. They are an object, an inconvenience, something to be moved around and traded in for another model when they become too old, big, or grumpy. Could you imagine if we did that? I wonder how many of us would trade in our kids if they did something wrong. Seems drastic, right? But owners get rid of their pets for ridiculous reasons, like moving to an apartment that doesn't allow pets, or their new boyfriend doesn't like cats. 

This won't happen with my boys. My boys are a part of my family. A part of heart. A piece of my soul. I would, quite literally, throw myself in front of a bus for them. While it seems entirely stupid thinking back on it, I actually once put my hand in the mouth of a dog who was biting Dixon's neck, just so I could get him off. I call them my boys, because referring to them as 'pets' belittles the relationship I have with them. 

Here's a story for you. 

The other night I received a text from my ex, we're friends and share Oliver so it wasn't unusual. He mentioned in his message that it was his dad's birthday. This caused my eyes to well with tears instantly. You see, I love my ex's father. I always will. And the night we lost him will forever be one of the most gutting moments of my life. So, here I am, crying, because I was sad and that's expected and the correct human emotion to have, and over comes Dixon. He crawls up onto the chair with me and starts licking my face, but then he does something he's never done before. He starts rubbing his head against mine, like he's nuzzling, and he keeps doing it, over and over, until I stop crying and am laughing. Then, he settles in beside me. 

There will always be those skeptics who doubt the relationships animals can have with people. Naysayers be damned. I feel sorry for those who have never had a dog as a best friend, who have never felt how rewarding it is to love and be loved unconditionally in return, to never have felt the healing power of animals.  

Sure, I might just be anthropomorphizing (giving human qualities to animals), but every time I come home Oliver is happy to see me. When I go to bed, he comes with me. And when he is sick, he wants me to hold him. When they are scared, they seek me out for comfort. I give, they take, but what they return to me is love. It's unconditional, no strings attached, heartwarming love. 

Which is why I am putting my boys on me for the rest of my life. Because they aren't just pets. And thanks to the Sidekick, Oliver was finished today. Just between us, I can't be happier. Now for Dixon on my other thigh!

For Those Undeserving

At times our love seems so ignorant. Not mine and ours. But all of ours. Human love. It has this naive air to it. A new born baby, so demanding and temperamental, throwing a fit and tossing all its toys from the pram. How terrified are we about love? We fear losing it, worry the people we give it to will not protect it as fiercely as we ourselves do, and we e are terrified over losing it, worried the people we give it to will not protect it as fiercely as we ourselves do, and we expect so much in return. Even when we do give it, we are waiting for a reason to take it back. Take it away.

From my experiences, true love doesn't come with conditions, restrictions, or rules. It comes uninhibited and determined. It comes free and vast. It is the winning ticket where the prize is too valuable to understand. Imagine giving love to someone without wanting or needing it in return is boggling to our tiny brains. It is exhilarating to think about. A simple and novel idea, yet seemingly so complex, difficult to accept let alone execute. Because love doesn't conform to one set of rules, because it is flexible and an emotional chameleon, it is near impossible to imagine being able to spread it to those who are most deserving. And the idea of loving those who are deemed unlovable is baffling.

Why would we do such a thing?

Why would we love those we loathe? The ones we hate, who anger us to the point of violence, the ones who provoke our own bad behaviours, who stoke the fires of our cynicism and have us calling for them to reap what they sow, for karma to pay unto them the misery and hurt they've showered onto others. The anger comes easy. To despise those who do atrocious things, unspeakable things, things we cannot accept or understand.

But aren't these undeserving undesirables the ones who truly need love?

There is a simple fact, one most people don't take into consideration, but it's the only truth I am a hundred percent certain of. Happy, healthy people do not hurt others. Happy, healthy people do not torture, rape or murder. Happy, healthy people do not spread misery and hate. So, are these wounded, broken, unhappy people not those who need love the most? To guide them. To heal them. Or, if nothing else, to be the flickering light in the vast darkness in which they dwell?

This is not easy. Not in a world where we coddle our love and worry over who we give it to. How can we possibly extend compassion and love to the broken, lonely, unhealthy people when we have a hard time giving it to those who are good and nice? The answer is plain, with no flashing lights or bells and whistles. Practice. To be able to love everything, everyone, all things big and small, we must practice unselfish love. We must practice giving it without expectations and demands, without wants and needs, without restrictions.

When you find yourself confronted with an unfathomable deed done by a truly wicked person, remember: happy, healthy people don't hurt others. And even in the most horrific circumstances, selfless love does exist, and compassion can be found for even those who seem lost, broken and unlovable.