Only the Good Die Young

This morning on Facebook a friend of mine posted a darling picture of her beautiful Lab on the couch leaning against her son. Anyone would love and appreciate the photo. But the caption below the picture turned the photo into a precious, priceless moment. She indicated that she was going to have to put the dog down. I was instantly sick to my stomach. Instantly, the lump in my throat grew and I caught my breath. Even writing this tonight, I am struck with profound emotion. We met a new resident at Casa de Modesto today. She had never met Charlie before and when I asked if she liked dogs, she quickly replied with a joyful yes... but as she began to pet him she began to cry. She apologized for the sudden outburst of emotion, but she said she couldn't help herself. He reminded her of her favorite dog. She told me the story of a recent dream she had of the dog and how she missed him. More tears. Now we were both crying.

I've often said that the only fault of dogs is that they do not live long enough. Their lives are so short compared to ours and knowing that from start should make us appreciate them while we have them. But far too often we take the gift for granted. I came across this quote and I thought it was really profound. I hope you like it as well... And I hope you love those around you as much you can with the time you have before you.

“Dogs, lives are short, too short, but you know that going in. You know the pain is coming, you're going to lose a dog, and there's going to be great anguish, so you live fully in the moment with her, never fail to share her joy or delight in her innocence, because you can't support the illusion that a dog can be your lifelong companion. There's such beauty in the hard honesty of that, in accepting and giving love while always aware that it comes with an unbearable price. Maybe loving dogs is a way we do penance for all the other illusions we allow ourselves and the mistakes we make because of those illusions.”

Dean Koontz, The Darkest Evening of the Year