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Published: May 7, 2009
When our first child arrived, we already had a pair of dogs, and during their short time together, both dogs and infant got along well and were fascinated by each other. But when Claire was only 18 months old, our oldest dog died. There was great sadness on our part, but understandably not as much on Claire's. Life moved on.
Eventually we brought another dog into our home, and then another child. In due course all four played happily together. There were hiccoughs at first, though. Jenna, our second child, once thought that tugs on ears and tails, pokes in the eye or yanked out clumps of fur were great fun. Jack, patient and gentle though he is, always had low tolerance for that. Having paid his dues with Claire, Jack would often get up and head for the dog door when Jenna came into the room.
Finally, with some guidance from us, Jenna got the message. Then, within that happy synthesis of child and dog, the real fun began. For hours, the girls would frolic with the dogs, taking them on walks, chasing and wrestling. They would follow them out the dog door to discuss the events of the day as they all lay on the grass in the back yard.
In quieter moments, the dogs would flop on the floor with eyes half-closed, content to watch and see what interesting things their packmates would do next. Even today, when the occasional tantrum breaks on the shore of our home, we'll hear the clicking of nails on the hardwoods and the thwapping of the dog door as they head outside in search of a quieter place.
But Jack is 13 years old. He doesn't always leave a room as he used to when disquiet rears its head. My wife and I wonder if his decision to stay is driven more by even greater patience, or by the pain he feels in his joints when he does decide to move.
Our children have a greater attachment to our dogs now, and the next canine death will be much harder. Since our children were old enough to appreciate it, they've had the friendship of two fine companion animals to help them learn responsibility and compassion, as well as lend them a non-judgmental ear when they're upset.
Bette Midler once sang, "It's the heart afraid of breaking that never learns to dance." Perhaps, when the time comes, Jack's final gift to the girls will be the bittersweet knowledge that love is always worth the pain of loss that eventually, inevitably, follows it.
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