This I Believe

I believe in dogs.

Dixie, the dog my siblings and I grew up with, was a beagle/springer spaniel mix and a mother hen to our family. The people she loved she loved with all of her doggy soul. Every day when my father came home from work, Dixie would race to the door, wiggling her butt like Chubby Checker doing the twist until the door opened and Dad knelt down to pet her. She cried as he said, “OK, tell me all your troubles.” This ritual took place each weekday, with both father and dog doing their part as if it was the very first time. Dogs love routine, especially routines that involve love.

Roscoe, a huge lab/Newfoundland mix, was strong and gentle. He could look at you with alert, yet calm eyes that said, “Don’t stress out; just keep moving at a steady pace.” During my divorce several years ago, a friend advised me that for therapy I should just start walking and not stop until I felt better. Roscoe was by my side no matter how long the hike, helping me cope during that rough period. You can always lean on dogs, whether they’re big or small.

A 10-year-old golden retriever named Buck had kidney problems and was stick-thin when I adopted him. He had been chained outside for who knows how long by his former owners before they decided to give him up to the dog rescue group where I got him. Despite his previous life, he was the kindest dog I’ve ever had—he asked for nothing but gave everything. His eyes showed nothing but devotion and love, just because he had food, someone to pet him, and a roof over his head. Dogs appreciate the simple things in life.

Another golden, Ed, enjoyed the life of an entertainer. He had the best sense of humor of any of my dogs. He loved performing, with laughter as his goal. In typical retriever fashion, Ed would pick up objects to offer to people as they entered the house—sometimes embarrassing objects, such as underwear or old shoes. When he got laughs for doing that, he would parade around the room, tail waving furiously, refusing to give up the prize. Those who think a dog smile is just an optical illusion are fooling themselves. Dogs define joy—they create it and share it.

A terrier/border collie mix named Binzer now shares my home. He’s not my usual kind of dog—a little edgy with a lot of quirks. Of all unlikely places, I got him from my former husband, who wasn’t able to give him appropriate time and attention. I agreed to take Binzer from my ex when I remembered that life’s too short for baggage. Dogs don’t get mired in the past, why should humans?

I believe we should all take a lesson from dogs and live for the moment—with loyalty, dependability, simple needs, forgiveness, and—most of all—joy.