Bo-Bo Knows Gratitude for Dogs

Forget halos and snow-white wings—if angels exist they're dogs.

How else can you explain universal delight at the sight of a puppy, the calm that comes over you as you pet one that's chosen to lean against you for a spell, or the the silly joy that comes with realizing that the long list of things that can get a dog's tail thumping includes the slop they call dog food, being reunited after your long trip downstairs to get the mail, and the prospect of an opportunity to take a poo?

Bo will lope along beside me whether I take a 20-minute walk or a 60-minute walk. When I'm on a deserted road and the music inspires me to dance for a few measures, he hops along beside me with his head turned to look at me, his tongue lolling in a doggy smile that says "you go mom." And I'm convinced he's been trained to detect and counter my moods.

When I found out one of my best friends had been diagnosed with an aggresive and untreatable cancer, the news came over the phone, and though I was at the extreme opposite end of the condo from his favorite dog bed, Bo got up, came into my office, and put his head on my knees while I figured out how to balance sadness and bravery. How to stay in the moment I had with my friend right then instead of fast fowarding to future moments that had just been ripped away.

Dogs do that so well, don't they? Stay in the moment? The sun is shining, he's stretching his legs, there's an old friend visiting the house, a new friend on the street, a treat being offered, the smell of meat cooking, a toy that needs tossing, a pillow that needs a good claw fluffing, and on days when he eats a little too fast, a burp that needs tending to (he patters to my side and stands there while I stroke his chin and neck until he, well, burps).

There are angels among us. They may keep you up by licking their winkies throughout the wee hours, but they're angels nonetheless. I know I'm grateful for mine.