Tanya Writes About, well, Dogs

In my heart, they left me too soon. In my head, they were both in their doggie seventies and had lived good, long lives. But it's lonely. Every evening at five-thirty, my inner alarm says it's time to feed the dogs. There's no Marl any more to lay at my feed. No Seau lying noble and elegant in the sunshine while I garden.

No more romps in the park. In fact, since Seau passed, I've walked to the park several times and sat on the bench, just feeling the breeze in the trees and remembering him loping across the grass free and easy, like the young pup he once was. But at the end, he was losing the function of his back legs. And Marl...that sudden cancer, inoperable, inexorable, that took her from us last August still seems surreal. A hundred times a day I hear their tails slapping happily on our wood floors.

My friend Helen told me about the prayer below. I couldn't help passing it along because I know my babies are sitting at God's feet about now, and His hand is petting their heads.

But how I miss them at my side, miss them at my feet, miss them in my heart.

A Dog’s Prayer
By Beth Norman Harris

Treat me kindly, my beloved master, for no heart in all the world is more grateful for kindness than the loving heart of me.

Do not break my spirit with a stick, for though I should lick your hand between the blows, your patience and understanding will more quickly teach me the things you would have me do.

Speak to me often, for your voice is the world’s sweetest music, as you must know by the fierce wagging of my tail when your footsteps falls upon my waiting ear.

When it is cold and wet, please take me inside, for I am now a domesticated animal, no longer used to bitter elements. And I ask no greater glory than the privilege of sitting at your feet beside the hearth. Though had you no home, I would rather follow you through ice and snow than rest upon the softest pillow in the warmest home in all the land, for you are my god and I am your devoted worshiper.

Keep my pan filled with fresh water, for although I should not reproach you were it dry, I cannot tell you when I suffer thirst. Feed me clean food, that I may stay well, to romp and play and do your bidding, to walk by your side, and stand ready, willing and able to protect you with my life should your life be in danger.

And, beloved master, should the great Master see fit to deprive me of my health or sight, do not turn me away from you. Rather hold me gently in your arms as skilled hands grant me the merciful boon of eternal rest - and I will leave you knowing with the last breath I drew, my fate was ever safest in your hands.