What’s Left Unspoken

At the end of a long hallway, I caught them. A man and his best friend sharing a moment, possibly one of only a few remaining. She being considerably shorter, he had to bend over to kiss her lightly on the nose. My eyes started to well up, and I forced myself to turn away.

This was a torrid love affair, but not one to cause scorn, shame, nor divorce. The wife knew of this relationship and fully condoned it. The best friend—the family dog—was no threat to her.

Man and best friend palled around together since she was a wee pup. They moved across the country together; adorned with a flower wreath around her neck, she sat by his side at his wedding; he wrestled many unsavory items from her mouth on countless walks; he waited patiently during each recovery from her many anesthetized vet visits. Their love, reciprocated and unwavering.

Now at thirteen years of age, her illness has her in a weakened state. Once a burly broad, her spine and hips now protrude beneath her coat. But her disposition—well, you would never suspect her pain. She’s too proud and devoted to exhibit signs of wear and tear. As lovable as ever, she’s still a bouncy door greeter, and she waits eagerly for a crumb to tumble to the floor in the kitchen.

So their exchange? The one of arresting affection and raw emotion in the hallway? There stood a man aware of what’s coming and his dog who couldn’t quell his anguish and fear.

And that is why I had to shield myself further from this tender and significant communication between human and canine. Because having not one, but three furry companions in my household forces me to reflect on the inevitable. They’re aging in number, but are seemingly of sound mind and body. I entertain the notion that perhaps my animals will defy the odds, that they’ll live well beyond their respective life expectancies, that maybe they’re even immortal.

I acknowledge the unlikelihood and potential absurdity of those ideas. I just don’t like knowing what I don’t know, yet knowing what I do: the simple recognition of the day they won’t occupy my life with me.