Days of Heaven

I am always a little embarrassed answering questions to "dog authorities."  As in: "what are you feeding Murphy?"  Or "where does Murphy sleep?"  Gulp.  Quite frankly, Murphy and Sage have, in my opinion, a great life.  They are allowed on the bed, they have a routine, they get treats, they travel.  They are also allowed to be dogs.

Yes, it's true, I have been known to clown around with Murphy.  I will put one of my ski hats on her, and she will indulge me but not rolling around on the grass trying to get it off (now Sage on the other hand...).  But really, they are dogs.  They don't have fu-fu coats to ward off the wind, rain, or snow.  They don't sleep in beds shaped like luxury cars.  They don't go into stores with me.  Indeed, they have been known to be hitched to fire hydrants, bike racks, trees, while I do errands.  I expect them to be dogs.  Track mud into the house, chew on things I think are irreplaceable, and roll in horrifically stinky stuff just out of my eyesight.

When Murphy and I visited the vet yesterday I talked about the things Murphy does.  Her long walks, the traveling, accompanying me on my fly fishing adventures.  And the doctor reminded me what I knew, that all this activity is great for Murphy.  The doctor also bolstered my "days of heaven" treatment for the dogs.  Yep, we agreed, it's too bad the mattress manufacturers don't make a double-wide king to accommodate two labs and me.  Toast is a good thing.  And those long weekend walks, keep it up.  

Living with Murphy and care giving for my parents causes me to think a lot about aging.  It is a hackneyed thing to say that life is short, but quite simply, it is.  I feel responsible to make sure Murphy's life, as she becomes more vulnerable, is like heaven.  Warm, well fed, lots of affection.  She has given a lot, only asking for the tennis ball to be thrown one more time, or now, for one of the turkey chew-things she seems to love.  They are simple requests.  She has given hundreds of moments by the Yakima river on an autumn day, mad dogs in the snow at Commonwealth Basin, brazen leaps into Puget Sound chasing the ball.  Her head rests on my legs at night, the ultimate trust.  It is my responsibility to keep her days as if it is heaven.

Just a few minutes ago, I took a break and walked upstairs.  Both dogs were asleep on the bed, sunk deeply into the down comforter.  I felt this rush of joy.  There are good things in this world.   Despite wars, genocide, poverty, greed, lust for power, here are two beautiful dogs, secure, happy, and healthy.  It's heaven.

Murphy's day.