“Until it’s time for you to go”
She jumped on the bed and licked my face. Was I in heaven? Or was I dreaming? Neither, I soon realized. I was awake and the dog was licking my face and I was loving it. She would be leaving in a few hours and we were cherishing our last moments together.
An old song came to me:
“You’re not a dream, you’re not angel, you’re a dog
I’m not a king, I’m a man, from Japan
We’ll make a space in the lives that we’ve planned
And here you’ll stay until it’s time for you to go”
Maybe I made up the words, but you can see why the song emerged from my unconscious.
I do dog care. The dogs come, stay for a few days, and then their humans come, pick them up and they’re gone.
I love ‘em and leave ‘em
Or rather, I love ‘em and they leave me.
I tell them, “I’ll love you until it’s time for you to go.”
They say, “Let’s play!”
It’s good practice for dying, or at least coping with loss. I love them as much as I can, knowing that one day I will lose them. Loving and losing. The way of life. Losing what we love the most. Our human dilemma of finding the faith and courage to overcome fear and embrace love.
The house seems quiet and empty without them. Life goes on. Solitude has its merits. I trust that they’re playing and running wild somewhere. I remember them. Smile. Laugh. And move on.