A couple of nights ago, our dog Ozzie had a terrible seizure that ended his life. It was unexpected, even though he does take medicine to control his seizures, and it was a tough way to lose our beloved furry family member.
One kind friend shared a poem about how our pets choose the family that will love and teach them.
It made me think.
I don’t know if we taught Ozzie much of anything. Well, we actually did teach him not to hump. That was a good thing – It was getting to the point where our daughters’ friends left play dates feeling violated.
And we did teach him not to bite his leash and fight us for food.
But we were never able to teach our little ruffian, found scavenging for food on the streets of Philadelphia, not to jump on the table (we basically pushed our chairs in and guarded our plates). And he never got the hang of not jumping on people and trying to lick their faces. There wasn’t a trash can around that he didn’t try to explore for culinary delights.
He definitely taught us more than we taught him.
He loved everyone. No matter what. He loved nice people. He loved not-so-nice people. He loved people who liked him and people who didn’t.
And he forgave immediately and easily. He shrugged off pain. He didn’t wallow.
He was so happy. All of the time. And he enjoyed simple pleasures, from going for a walk, snuggling with our cats or us, eating, or looking out the window.
Everyone was his friend or a potential friend.
His last night was a painful bitter end, one he didn’t deserve.
But if he had recovered, I know what he would have done. He would have done what he did after other less severe seizures. He would have wagged his tail, bumped into a few walls, and jumped right back into the business of his life – looking for companionship and food and fun, not necessarily in that order. Food always came first.
And he would continue his lessons.
Love everyone. Forgive everyone. Enjoy life. The end.
Thank you Ozzie.