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Annie

February 28, 2020

There are science-based facts about dogs, other than that they’re loyal, lovable and (sometimes) obedient:

  • They know if we’re happy, sad or angry.
  • They yawn when we yawn.
  • They actually bond when we share a mutual gaze.
  • They feel jealousy.
  • They age faster than humans.

Way too fast.

My cousin Kerry, a devoted animal mom, wrote this on Facebook a year ago after losing one of her fur babies:

“No one tells you how quickly dogs age. How one day you wake up and suddenly their face is all white, how their eyes start to seem more milky than before, how you have to call their name a few more times than you used to.

“People tell you not to blink when you have children, but what about the dog who was with you before your children were even thought of? The dog who was by your side before you found the love of your life, the dog who jumped from apartment to apartment in your early 20s. No one tells you to cherish every moment you have with them.”

Then I will: Cherish your dog.

As humans, if we’re lucky, our emotional attachments mostly involve the beginning and middle of someone’s life, or the middle and end. To live with an animal is another matter. We come before them, but they usually leave us first.

The English poet Lord Byron was so devastated upon the death of his beloved Newfoundland, whose name was Boatswain, that he had this inscribed upon the dog’s gravestone: “Beauty without vanity, strength without insolence, courage without ferocity, and all the virtues of man without his vices.”

~ Annie 2005-2020 ~

Maddie’s mother, Annie, died yesterday. She had just turned 15 in January. That’s a lot in dog years, and at this point in her canine life, Annie had lost most of her teeth and eyesight. But at 10 pounds soaking wet, she remained one tough cookie.

Some dogs, such as Labradors, love everyone the second they meet them. Annie, not so much. She was a Havanese breed, originally the national dog of Cuba, part Bichon and part Maltese. Small but mighty, most Havanese become attached and fiercely loyal to their owners, often choosing one person whom they will closely follow.

Annie’s limited circle of friends was filled with one special human: my sister Sandy. God bless her, that dog only had eyes for Sandy. Ask anybody who knew Annie – family, friends and strangers even – she was a one-person dog.

So, it isn’t cliché to say Annie left her paw prints on Sandy’s heart alone.

Hopelessly devoted to my sister, Annie didn’t give a rat’s fandango about anyone else. That includes her own flesh and blood, our dog, Madison, on the right in the main photo above taken a few years ago. (Annie’s on the left.)

When they’d see each other at family functions, Annie would sniff Maddie and then walk away, as if to say, “Yeah, I birthed you, little biatch, and taught you the basics of dog life, but my work is done here. Run along.”

Aside from Rebecca, Maddie is my favorite hello, and I know she will be my hardest goodbye.

Obviously, Maddie wasn’t a rescue and didn’t “save my life,” as some dog owners and bumper stickers tout. But she has been a godsend.

Over the past 11 years, she has made me laugh when we play ball, move my butt when I didn’t want to get off the couch, and more than once comforted my soul by allowing me to bury my tear-filled face in her fur.

I’m pretty sure it meant nothing to her, except yet another opportunity to lick me.

Back to more of my cousin’s pet wisdom:

“Cherish your dog. The one who’s been there through every breakup and every dumb fight with your best friend or spouse. That dog who slept in the bed with you when you were lonely and made you feel safe when you left home.

“Cherish your dog. Because one day you’ll take her on a walk, and she’ll start to get tired before you do, and you’ll realize just how many years she’s been walking by your side.”

RIP, dear Annie. We’ll think of you fondly every time your baby girl howls.

I’ll leave you with some words from “Song of Myself” by American poet Walt Whitman from his collection, Leaves of Grass, published in 1855:

“I think I could turn and live with animals, they’re so placid and self contain’d,

They do not sweat and whine about their condition,

They do not lie awake in the dark and weep for their sins,

They do not make me sick discussing their duty to God,

Not one is dissatisfied, not one is demented with the mania of owning things,

Not one kneels to another, nor to his kind that lived thousands of years ago,

Not one is respectable or unhappy over the earth.”

Retired print journalist, blogger and Madison’s other mother.❤️🐾

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