All right. Let me tell you about Honey.
To know Honey you must know Jasper.
Jasper was my dog of five years, through thick and thin until death did we part. A black Poodle mix with chocolate eyes and a soft, anxious heart. When I lost Jasper, I lost a piece of myself. Ready to to curl up beside him beneath his twin pines, I longed to join him on the other side of eternity. I’ve lost before, and I’ll lose again. But when I lost Jasper, I lost everything; and when I grieved Jasper, I grieved everything.
Loving and losing Jasper was a lesson. Like Jasper, everything and everyone I know and love will leave this world. Without exception. Jasper was a lesson in impermanence. Nothing here will last. Like a breath in, then out; it all passes. Jasper was a painful lesson in regret. I could have loved him more thoroughly in his lifetime, and I should have. “Could” and “should” are words I seldom use. I should have taken more walks, had more patience, lingered a little longer in his furry snuggle. I didn’t. You see the metaphor here. Not a single thing, person, thought, experience is here to last. My God, is that heart-shattering. When I grieved Jasper, I grieved all of this. Deeply.
Two days after Japser’s death, Honey came to me. Like an angel from heaven. Soft. Sweet. Golden love. When we met, my heart melted. I cannot overstate or exaggerate her tenderness. Like salve on my wounds, she healed me. If Jasper was regret, Honey is redemption. I love Honey with abandon, fully knowing and embracing her impermanence. Honey is the joyful beneficiary of my capacity to cherish. My capacity for patience. My conscious capacity for intentionality. I hold her long, pet her sweetly. Bring her on trips, and sneak her extra treats (we like strawberry malts in the car.). I hold boundaries and expectations. Absolutely wallow in her snuggles, get lost in her brown eyes. I let her run free and schedule playtime with Tele and Obadiah (her besties.) She is a farm dog who gets dirty and cleaned up again. She chases rabbits and runs like a fool. She naps in the shade and laps water with gusto. (Dear Lord, don’t let Honey be a lesson.)
When I gained Honey, I gained everything. Perspective, appreciation, intention.
In many ways, I’m co-beneficiary of my capacity to cherish. My lattes taste a little sweeter when they’re savored. The kiss of the summer sun is warmer. A steamy shower, a sticky cinnamon roll. Hot sand or soft grass between bare toes. A favorite sweatshirt. An excited dog and the whip of their tail. Cool lake and the ability to swim across it. Dear Lord, let me savor and wallow and linger and stay a little longer. Let me hold these joys with gentle hands. With tenderness, reverence, and appreciation.