The face of devotion

I only need to look at my big brown dog and think ‘I love you’ and he wags his tail. If the notion of going for a walk crosses my mind he looses his. Chester and I have a connection that goes beyond words. 

I inherited this brown dog and although we have a strong connection I believe his heart will always belong to someone else. He was my husband’s dog.  This isn’t to say Ches has pined day after day for these past months, he has actually adapted better than anyone else, but I believe he is waiting.  He seems unaware he’s doing this waiting, I don’t think he falls asleep and dreams about his Dad, I don’t think he grieves, but I don’t think he has forgotten either.  Dogs don’t usually look much beyond their next meal or walk or pat – they seem to live their lives moment by moment – but they don’t forget.

Chester has become my shadow and follows me wherever I go; he waits outside the bathroom door when I’m in the shower, I trip on him in the laundry room when I’m folding clothes and he lays on my foot while I’m reading; he is good company. But (and this is a big ‘but’) I know in my heart if the front door opened and a familiar voice announced he was home, this dog would drop me like a hot potato.  He was, and will always be, devoted to someone else.

Sometimes I wish I could take a page out of Chester’s book, I wish I could just carry on without the burden of grief.  I wish I could live a moment without wishing for something I can never have again. I’d like to stay loyal and be devoted without being heartbroken all the time.  Other times I’m thankful I trip on my memories, thankful I can feel the emptiness because in that void is a vivid picture – I can see the object of my devotion.

I’m thankful I inherited Chester, in his eyes Is something no other dog will ever have –  memories of someone we both loved with all our hearts. He may not ‘remember’ but he hasn’t forgotten and there is comfort in that.