Happy the Dog
Over the Thanksgiving break, one of my friends here decided to adopt a dog. He had grown up with dogs, and with various things in his life settling out, it was a good time to invite another dog into his life, he was telling us the other day.
Having decided, he went to the Baltimore Humane Society shelter, where dozens of dogs barked and wagged and jumped. But the dog that captured his attention was a cute little dog that sat in a corner away from the other big dogs, a little scared, but wagging and looking hopefully.
Heart captured, my friend asked the Humane Society volunteer about the little dog's story. The little brown and white furry dog was named Happy, the staffer explained. Happy had lived many years with an elderly woman, who had taken very good care of him over the years, until sadly she passed away from cancer, a few months ago. With no other family, Happy had ended up at the shelter, and had been there since, these past many months.
My friend, concerned, asked if there was anything wrong with Happy, that had caused others to pass him by. Oh no, the volunteer quickly replied -- Happy had a completely clean bill of health, certified by the shelter's veternarians. He was very polite, very well behaved, up to date on all his shots, housebroken -- the late woman who had been his companion had raised him very well.
My friend, puzzled, then asked why everyone else over the last few months had passed up the chance to adopt such a well behaved, already trained dog. Well, the shelter volunteer explained reluctantly, the fact Happy had lived many years with his previous companion was precisely the problem. Given the average life expectancy of his breed, Happy probably only had two or three years left, five perhaps at most. Most people, the volunter noted, would rather adopt a dog which had a full lifetime ahead, not just a few years before the end.
My friend said he understood -- and he said it would not be a problem. He was an oncologist, he explained. It's not how many days, he told us he said to the volunteer. It's how good the days are.
My friend says Happy is now his grant-writing dog. Happy immediately made himself at home. Very polite, totally housebroken, doesn't cause any trouble, but is always wanting to cuddle. Happy comes over and quietly curls up in his lap as he works on the computer. Write a few paragraphs, scratch Happy between the ears. Prepare a figure, scratch Happy between the ears.
It's not how many days. It's how good the days are.