A Dog’s Life

Today, I thought of Jerry all the while. Mother got him just after she left Dad – a sort of rebound I guess. She got him “used,” she would say, though he wasn’t. The only way to use a dog is to love it.

Somebody found Jerry loping starving along the highway and brought him to the pound. No collar, no chip. An awkward mutt, some sort of shepherd/chow mix with a mottled tongue and a head that was too big. He was a day away from execution when Mom walked in.

They made a good pair. He found an empty space in the bed and claimed it. He warned when danger, or the postman, got near. He listened to her gripe about dad. That guy was just a prick, he told her once. There’s nothing else you could have done.

Being away from your mom is a little hard. As a son, a mother’s decline is slightly easier to bear when she has a dog. I admit: I relied on Jerry. I relied on him to keep her company and to keep her safe. He committed to doing both. I didn’t even have to ask.

So, when she called and said that Jerry had a growth in his lung and there was nothing that they could do, I was upset. Naturally, I tried to play the man. I told her that she had given him a good life. I told her that she was doing the right thing. I told her to be proud of their friendship.

And then I hung up the phone and went to court and acted normally. I stepped up to the bench and said whatever I was supposed to say, but every few minutes I’d glance at the clock and shudder at the fast approach of 2:30, the dreaded hour.

At 3:30, I donned my strong man voice and called again. I expected sobs, but heard relief. We decided to try the surgery after all, she said. They told me that it might buy him a year and I looked at him and I could tell that he wasn’t ready, and neither am I.

It’s just a dog’s life, you know? He doesn’t write poetry and he doesn’t write music. He growls when he thinks he should and sometimes he gets it right – but mostly, he doesn’t. Yet, somehow, he walks this lonely path and brightens it. And though it’s a light that lasts as long as memory, it’s also nice to feel its warmth.