Denali and I met when she was nine weeks old. The markings on her face suggested she was angry, or at least quite perturbed. Those markings have changed over the years, but her huffs and eyerolls have remained. She’s not an angry dog, but she is stubborn and has very strong opinions about things.

She’s getting up there in age — 13 years old now. Instead of plopping down on the floor, she eases her way down slowly. Instead of jumping around and vocalizing when I pick up the leash, she turns around and finds a comfy place to rest. It seems like just yesterday that she ran 12 miles with me, and now she’s not been on a walk for a few weeks.

Occasionally she has issues climbing the stairs to our main level. I’ve only seen this happen twice, but I know it occurs more often than I realize. Both times she’s gotten up 4 or 5 steps when her back legs just give up. She lays there for a moment before finding the strength to stand up. Even though it breaks my heart, I let her figure it out for herself. If I were to step in, I know the situation would be made worse.

After standing up, she turns around and goes back down the stairs. She doesn’t push herself to keep going up. But then a funny thing happens. While I’m feeling sad for her and wondering how much longer she will be around, I hear her nails clicking on the kitchen floor. She tried again and made it!

It dawned on me that Denali doesn’t ruminate about her “failures” —

she doesn’t think about how bad her legs are getting or her life slowing down. She just faces what’s in front of her and lives in that moment. When she came up the stairs a second time, I don’t think she was thinking about the time she fell. Either dogs don’t think the way we do (likely) and/or she’s very resilient (she is!).

I want to be that kind of resilient. Where I don’t let my past mistakes inform my current situation. Where I don’t worry about future possibilities, but instead stay present to my current condition. I want to walk up the stairs as many times as it takes to get to the kitchen where there might possibly be some crumbs on the floor for me to lick up!

Steve

Steve is one of the most observant dogs I know. For example, over the last eighteen months or so, I’ve written notes and postcards fairly regularly. I pull out my tote of cards, sit down at my desk, write a short note, address the envelope, grab a stamp from the desk and walk out to the mailbox. Somehow Steve has picked up on this routine so much so that he whines as I’m writing the note because he knows this process will lead to us walking out the front door together! (Nevermind the fact that he has a door in the basement that allows him to go outside whenever he wants!)

He knows my morning routine too, and after breakfast he sits there eagerly waiting for me to get the leash and take him on a walk. Similarly, my husband often goes out to get a fountain drink and breakfast sandwich in the mornings. Steve will follow him so carefully, you would think we intentionally taught him to “heel” (we did not). 

The other morning after one of these rendezvous, Steve found me and again started to whine. This was annoying because he had just gotten a car ride — what more did he need? So I looked at him and said:

“Be happy that it happened, not sad that it’s over.”

He wasn’t impressed with my wisdom and nothing really changed with his behavior, but something did change in me. I don’t think I’ve ever said that phrase out loud before, nor have I really given the concept much thought. But how often am I more focused on the sadness of something ending, than the happiness that it even happened at all?

As Denali needs more care (I really feel like we have a puppy again), it’s easy for me to get wrapped up in my sadness of her life coming to an end. But, when my husband and I reminisce about her life, I suddenly find myself happy!

Oh yeah — I remember when she used to beg me to play tug-o-war with her! Haha — remember when Danny had to chase after her when she snuck through the door? Aww — remember when she followed Rosemary around, watching her as she learned to crawl?

Of course, I will be terribly sad when her life ends and there’s so much happiness wrapped up in her life. Somehow, I was lucky enough to be part of it all!

I know initially we chose these dogs to be part of our family. But I suspect something bigger was going on when that selection process took place — Denali and Steve chose us too.

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