Last night I talked a woman through putting her unconscious dog to sleep. She is somebody I constantly bumped into in Central Park when I took my dog for a weekend morning off leash walk, a doggy friend, not a human friend. We never saw each other without dogs. My dog passed about a year ago. Since then, I haven’t seen her. That’s how it works. People with dogs and people without dogs occupy separate worlds in the city.
She was one of those people who lived for their dogs, who won’t leave their dog alone more than a couple of hours. One of us who don’t trust people, but trust dogs. One of us who learn what love feels like for the first time through our dogs.
Her dog had a cancer surgery and came back home O.K. Then suddenly the dog collapsed and lost consciousness.
I’ve been there. My dog had a brain tumor and one day suddenly collapsed at the ripe age of 14.
She knew there are no options but one. She just needed confirmation from somebody else. She had already spent 10 hours in the hospital waiting for her dog to regain consciousness.
Most of time, we know what we should do, and still sometimes we need to convince ourselves to do. We get trapped in the fear of should have, could have, might have. What we need is somebody who hear what we can’t say and mirror it back.
She said she wanted to follow her dog. I told her I felt the same way. But then after one year I still feel my dog’s love saturating my life on a nice spring day.
Dogs keep a promise a person can’t.
A quote from Hannibal by Bryan Fuller