Gone to the dogs
The cure for grief ain't easy, but is simpler than you think.
HAPPY THANKSGIVING to each and every one of you!
I adopted Thanksgiving when I came to the US over three decades ago because to me, it’s a universally meaningful holiday. As an old-fashioned immigrant who believes in America, I’ve always loved and celebrated it and found it profoundly significant.
Every Thanksgiving I host family and friends and insist each person talk about something specific and special that they’re thankful for that year. My guests never fail to delight with the list of very specific blessings they feel a deep gratitude for. And I’ve noticed over the years that the substrate that lies beneath all of those blessings, is that ephemeral, impermanent foundation we all thrive on. Love, of course. How tightly we grasp it whenever, wherever we find it because it’s also the loss we fear most deeply. Perhaps more than our own mortality.
So I offer you an old poem of mine about love and loss. I’m trying something new with something old here–an old poem, “Pup love” on video:
Here’s the original post:
The poem references this thing we do as humans, I think, to somewhat prepare ourselves for inevitable grief. We pretend that if we don’t talk or acknowledge that grief is part of life, we can ward it off. Things is, if we live long enough, grief will come because loss is life. That’s not some sort of dire or negative pronouncement on life. It just is the nature of life—in all its beauty, glory, splendor. It’s actually life in the best possible way.
Because think about it. There are only two alternatives to life—death and non-existence. And who wants non-existence!? Actually there’s nothing there to “want” because there’s no you.
The other alternative is not an alternative—death is the other side of the coin of life. There is no life—the concept has no meaning—without death. So to properly embrace life one must embrace the concept of death and loss. This is exactly why we celebrate both a good life and a good death. And also why we’re heartbroken when we lose someone who went “before their time.”
The only way to love a dog...is to love many!
And then there are dogs, who we love despite knowing that they are likely to go much before us. But even in that there’s a chance to redeem our humanity, of which our capacity to love, despite the odds, is perhaps the most profoundly beautiful human thing we own.
I wrote a poem on this a while ago but this came to me as our current pup turned eight this year and inevitably my mind went to how many more years of his love will I have? Bad question—but more on that later…
Partially, these questions return to me because I recently saw a friend who has an old dog. And he's kind of a cranky fellow. We got talking about how sweet he used to be. She lamented the fact that he’s very old now, and that very soon he’ll likely be gone. I’m paraphrasing our conversation.
She said, “I don't know how I'll deal with that. It's going to break my heart.”
And I said, “I know. You’ll cry and grieve a lot. And then…you'll get another dog!”
She replied, “Never! I could never do that. I’d feel like I was being disloyal to him.”
To which I said something I always say to myself—and to all dog lovers, “This is how it is with dogs. Their lifespans are much shorter than ours. We know this when we get them. Still, we love them. But the thing is—we're meant to have many dogs! They come into our lives, so we can learn to love them—and many more. Because there are so many dogs out there waiting for our love. So go love another, and then another...”
I don't know if it helped her at all. We moved on, but it got me thinking that we have to look at every good thing that happens to us in that light. Because THAT right there is how we get to have…eternity!
…the substrate that lies beneath all of those blessings, which is that ephemeral, impermanent foundation we all thrive on. It’s love, of course.
That love is a thing we have forever. It doesn't go away. I mean that somewhat literally, actually. Because we experienced it, it became a part of our psyche, perhaps even at a cellular level. It’s now a known thing that powerful experiences can change our physiology. What’s more powerful than love? And once we’ve had a love, it’s ours. Forever. In every word, every meme, every sigh every breath that we inhale and is resplendent in every generosity, every value, every utterance; in all of it, it plays a part and in that way we get to become the vehicles by which that experience is propagated in the world.
So if and when you lose a dog, you have to grieve and then just make sure you give other dogs your love. And when it's time for them to go, you shed tears, you celebrate their love and the capaciousness of your own heart, and then you figure out who's next in line because they're waiting and they need to be in your life to gather up the love you have to give.
And these questions will only become more acute, more pressing as technology offers further diversions and distractions from life’s essential nature. Right today you can clone your beloved dog—some $50K and you can have a replica. Yet, will you have the exact same dog? Genetically, yes. But no living being is merely the sum of its genetic material. The experiences, the life, the places, the relational aspects that shape each of us make us wholly who we are. Same for dogs.
Besides, there’s another truth. When we clone our pups to avoid grief, don’t we just postpone and deny an essential facet of life—its finitude—which underlies its preciousness? I don’t judge those who go for such options in moral terms (what about dogs waiting in shelters etc—is not the objection I’m positing here), but I wonder if avoiding life in this way exacts other rents. That's just how life is. While you’re in it at least, avoiding reality will cost you.
This is obviously not just about dogs. I’ll let you take on the rest.
Meanwhile, speaking of dog, watch this with the sound on—it’ll make you happy.
One last plug for my plays…Last showcase on December 4th evening! Online.
TWO of the THREE SHORT PLAYS written by yours truly. Run time ~about an hour. Last showcase on December 4th. RSVP to raatheater@gmail.com to receive a zoom link to watch.
Ah, dogs. I wrote a little chapbook about the power of loving them and then allowing ourselves to bring the next dogs into our lives. Those next dogs are a living embodiment of all the dogs we’ve loved.
Reena, I just played your reading to my daughter-in-law with two pups. We loved it!