Okay, so I haven't written for several weeks, and, no, I haven't had writer's block. What I did have was a lot to do. And this blog wasn't priority...
STOP! I should be honest, here. What I said above was very true. I have been busy. But that's not the whole reason I haven't written. Truth be told, I started a blogpost several weeks ago that I just couldn't finish. I knew what I wanted to say. If I had forced myself to sit down at the keyboard, the words would have flowed eventually. But writing takes courage. I just couldn't muster up the nerve.
And maybe that's a good thing. Perhaps my doubts prevented me from posting something that I might later regret. Or just something that was off-message, or not mine to write. So I'll put that post aside for awhile.
Besides, life and my muse had other plans.
THIS HAS BEEN A BAD WEEK. Did I mention that my dog died?
Let me start over.
No, I'm not a sentimental animal lover. Sure, I like dogs and cats. But frankly, even though I have some good friends who are animal lovers, I am wary of people who exhibit an excessive affection for animals. When I hear that a person is an animal lover, my next question is: "Are you a vegetarian?" If the answer is, "Yes," then that's two strikes. Think of it this way: Hitler was an animal lover; he was also a vegetarian; it's not a long stretch from animal lover and vegetarian to mono-maniacal psychopath interested in genocide and world domination. Did I mention that I'm not sentimental about my pets?
Catholic dogma states that dogs do not have immortal souls, but only material souls. This makes perfect sense to me. Dogs may seem to experience human-like emotions, but most of those feelings are just emotions that we project upon them. What makes dogs so special is that they are such willing participants in our anthropomorphism. Thus, the movie All Dogs Go to Heaven is, from a strictly Catholic perspective, heretical. But before you start your bonfire or call the Grand Inquisitor or--worst of all--write a chain letter on Facebook, you should be aware of one important caveat on the Catholic position of dogs and heaven. While dogs lack immortal souls and cannot be saved, they can and do make it to heaven. This is because heaven is a perfect place, and the presence of some dogs would be necessary for heaven to be a perfect place. From this logic, it follows that Lassie is probably in heaven and Cujo is not. This leads me to believe that, if my children, wife, or I ever make it to heaven, then Rex will probably be waiting there for us. He was that kind of dog. Did I mention that I'm not sentimental about my pets?
Rex came to us via a friend who volunteers at the local animal rescue shelter and who agreed to show my teenage son what she does. That Saturday, our cellphones were abuzz with photos of all the dogs at the shelter. My son's heart went out to all the dogs, but he finally settled upon the funny, medium-sized tan dog. The next week, he was home with us. I lost out in the naming process (nobody else liked the name, Elvis), and the name Rex was chosen. Soon he was Rexie, Rex Roy, Rextopher, Rooner, and Roon-dog. But my personal favorite was my wife's uncle who called him the "Weiner Hound."
We don't know exactly how old Rex was, but the vet guessed about one year. He seemed like he was still a puppy when we first got him. Three years later, he still acted like a puppy. So, it's hard to say how old he really was. At first, there was some doubt about what mix of breeds he was, but the vet was quite sure he was a designer dog, a Ba-Shar. That made sense. He had the body of a Basset Hound and the wrinkles of a Shar-Pei. The idea of coupling those two breeds was to assuage some of the extreme defects of both breeds. Basset Hounds' drooping ears tend to get infected and their long torsos cause strain on their backs. Shar-pei's wrinkles can lead to skin irritation, odor, and infections. Rex had a good mix of traits from both breeds, except his body shape, which was pure Basset Hound. This turned out to be his fatal flaw.
A friend of mine who is crazy about Basset Hounds once asked, "Does Rex have a sense of humor?" This struck me as an odd question, but I read about Basset Hounds. Bassets can be very playful. I also knew from past observation that Bassets are remarkably patient with small children. Combine this with the Shar-pei's love of running and wrestling, and he was a wonderful pet for children.
Looking back on my life, I've had quite a few pets. It strikes me as odd that, when I remember each one, I don't recall the good times as much as the troubled times that accompanied the life of that pet. This is not a coincidence. People confide in their pets. Pets help us to cope with loneliness, discord, despair, and grief. Dogs and cats--dogs especially--are like perfect Rogerian psychotherapists, sans the "What I hear you saying..." bologna. Rex was a good listener. In many respects, I will never be as good at counseling as Rex was.
We've never been a dog family. Part of that dates back to the days when both my wife and I worked, when caring for a cat was just easier. Another aspect was that my wife and I both liked the independence, assertiveness, and sleekness of cats. But Rex whittled his way into our hearts. At first, he was afraid of my wife and women in general. And brooms. Reminded me of that movie we used to watch every year in grade school about the wandering dog who was afraid of brooms. But Rex softened to my wife and lost the fear of brooms. These last couple years, he was her baby.
The children, of course, loved Rexie Roy. With a full house of kids, ages 21, 18, 12, 9, 7, 4, and 2, Rex always had a playmate. He was gentle with the baby, played dress-up with the little girls, rough-house with the older boys, and took long naps in between, sometimes with a child using him as a pillow. He was all things to all people. Sure, he was a little needy at times. But he became like a linchpin in our family, keeping everyone together in his own way.
I wonder if Rex had a patron saint, and if it wasn't Saint Simon the Cyrene. Rex was eager to carry everyone's cross. In his own way, he took on each of my children's pain. He helped them to overcome fear. He gave them courage. He helped them through troubling times. He gave them an ear and never repeated a word they said. And then one day, his tail became limp. We took him to the vet. The next day, he couldn't move his hind legs. He became incontinent. We took him back to the vet. He had lesions all up and down his spine. It was a congenital problem common with Basset Hounds. Couple his extreme body shape with the spunk of a Shar-pei, and Rex's spine just wore out. I like to think that he was congenitally predisposed to carrying everyone's cross, and eventually he just gave out.
The vet could have operated. We could have spend thousands of dollars, and it probably wouldn't have helped. Besides, I'm morally opposed to heroic measures on animals when many humans in this country lack proper medical coverage. So, we opted to put him to sleep. That's not to say the decision was easy. My 21-year old son and 9-year old daughter went with me to the vet to say good bye. When the vet brought him into the room, Rex was very sad, a shadow of the dog he had once been. Obviously, he was in a lot of pain. But he was glad to see us. And we think that he knew he was dying. In a couple days, the paralysis would have reached his lungs. I led my daughter back out to the waiting room, and returned to the exam room. My oldest son said good bye and Rex quietly went to sleep as the medicine reached his heart. He was courageous to the end. I don't believe that he was concerned about his own welfare. Frankly, I think he was relieved of the pain. I think he was, most of all, concerned about my son. Worried that he was crying. Worried that he would be okay.
The vet, who had encouraged us to make our own decisions all along, said afterwards that she felt we had made the right decision. She also said that Rex had "a really sweet disposition."
Sweet disposition is an understatement. This might contradict Catholic dogma, but if there beatification of animals, Rex would be a saint. Saint Rex, the Cross-bearer.
