An Open Letter to My Dog

Dear Bruce,

There’s a lot about life I don’t understand. I wonder why people are evil to others; why they litter our earth and believe nature’s bounty is made of expendable resources. I don’t know why people lie and cheat or ruin their most valued relationships. It hurts my brain to imagine the vastness of the universe and the smallness of my human heart and I know you feel the same way; there’s a lot about life you don’t understand either. I see your brown eyes through the crack of the door as I’m pulling it closed and I want you to know that I hear your questions.

“Why do you and Mom leave every day? Where are you going? When are you coming back? Are you ever coming back at all?” I can read you like a book; you wear your heart on your fur. If you ever think you’re being subtle, think again. I know that despite your big growl and stiff stature when you meet other dogs you wish you had some furry friends. I know that when, in your old age, you underestimate the jump from the floor to the couch, you look to see if anybody noticed. And I know that you know we notice, and I wish I could tell you that we aren't laughing at you, we are laughing with you.

I know I’m young and you’re a dog, and because of that fact there’s a lot we don’t understand about ourselves. Why do I leave everything until the last minute? Why am I physically unable to get out of bed until I have pressed snooze more than three times (at least)? I mostly understand why I can’t eat five jars of Nutella without gaining some number of pounds, but I just can’t accept it. In the negative temperatures of New England winters you probably wonder why you are forced to poop outside. You look at me like I have seven heads when I cut your nails or bathe you, and you can’t seem to figure out why we dress you up in sweaters or raincoats and socks and Halloween costumes.

I do understand that life should be fulfilled, and that completeness and self-sufficiency are what make a happy life fulfilled. A life that is complete is lacking nothing, and it is self-sufficient if what completes it is good in itself. Bruce, you are an angel who chose paws instead of wings. I would not change one thing about your bad habits like barking or making a mess of your food. You are complete in your twelve pounds and big ears and even though you shed like crazy I love to have you cozied up in bed with me. You came into my life before I knew how much I would need your unconditional snuggles, long silent walks and emotional greetings every day. You’re the only one in the world that treats me like I’m famous when I come home. I need you to know that I will always come back to you, and if I had it my way you’d be by my side all day every day. I will always tell you my secrets and I will always know what’s on your soul.

You have taught me that no matter what life brings, to kick some grass over that s*** and move on.