To my pet—on National Dog Day - Jenny Spitzer

To my pet,

You are called a “pet” but we both know better. For your part, you appear to consider yourself the owner of the house whose BFF is the maid/chef/butler (how unpretentious of you).

For my part, you are a strange sometimes smelly slacker roommate that never pays rent, destroys the furniture, steals my bed, eats my food, and poops in strange places—in public or in a box or simply on the floor and sometimes in extra “fun” are-you-serious?! places.

Finding your feces in my favorite shoes notwithstanding (good times) you are truly an amazing friend. You give the the rarest kind of love. The best kind. The kind that is not only unconditional but is immediate, without question, hesitation, reservation. When I wonder if I deserve it, you love me enough for the both of us. You are sure of my worth in a way that I am rarely, if ever, sure of anything.

And you are the wisest being who I know. No, I’m not referring to your idea to take clean socks out of my laundry basket and bury them in your litter box or eat pretty much everything including poop or love your new fire hydrant toy so much that you swallow it whole only to need it surgically removed and no, you can not have it back after it’s removed from your intestines. (Not that these ideas are not brilliant, of course).

You know everything that is worth knowing. You know how to give and receive love. You know that you are inherently worthy of love and of everything that you need. Something baby humans seem to know but eventually, as we get older, forget.

And we silly humans waste so much of our time, energy, our whole lives worrying about things that simply do not matter.

You know that it does not matter what we look like, whether we are fat or thin, tall or small, whether we said or did something super awesome or profoundly ridiculous. You never judge us on what we know or don’t know, can or can’t do, how much money we make, what we acquired or what we lost, what choices and mistakes we have made, how we fare against our neighbors on all of these arbitrary measures.

All that matters to you, all that it takes to make us lovable is that we are gentle and kind to you– this sweet wise soul that found its way into our home.

And you pay no mind to the past or to the future. We foolish humans keep trying, futilely, to re-do the past and predict the future. But not you, your head is always where your body is. Here. Now. Precisely where we humans should be, but rarely ever are.

You know that the secret to this life is to be wherever and whatever you are. To love easy and wholeheartedly. To play as often as possible. And to encourage others to do the same. Even when they are cranky or tired and think , erroneously, that they have more important things to do.

Maybe one day we’ll recognize and emulate your wisdom. Until then, we’ll appreciate the reminder and the sniffling, cuddling, playing, jumping, destroying, pouting, begging, sometimes stinky always adorable perfect package that it comes in.

~ your maid, your chef, your butler, your profoundly grateful, best friend

~

Author: Jenny Spitzer

Editor: Ashleigh Hitchcock

Photo: wikimedia