Exhaustion may not be the best word to describe that look. Happy was my wife’s dog. He’s been with her longer than I have, nearly 15 years. He was with her while she was at grad school in another state, keeping her company, keeping her safe, and perhaps keeping her a little sane. When she would come home and visit, that’s when he met me. They told me he came across as a little aggressive but not to worry as he’d never hurt anyone. He reminds me of someone I know quite well, too well. So naturally, when he barked at me, I barked back. I met Happy in full force that day. It was telling of the years to come.
Over the next few months and into the spring Emily and I’s relationship blossomed along with the season. I asked her to marry me on Easter of 2006 and we got married later that year. This would mean me also accepting Happy into my life.
Our life together since has been full of good times and bad and Happy has been with her through it all. She was always his first priority. I’ve never seen a dog so committed and loyal to it’s owner. He never stopped reminding me that he had her first. Happy was always hers. And I never wanted to take that away.I’d be lying if I wasn’t a little jealous of their relationship. Everyone dreams about having a dog like happy. A dog that follows you to the ends of the earth. One that learns your varying work schedule and waits for you at the door until you come home. One that waits for you outside the bathroom just to make sure you are ok. One that sits with you while you are in the pains of infertility. One that sits with you as you care for the miracles we call children that one day come. One that sits and comforts you in the midst of lifes unknowns. Happy always knew just what you needed. I wanted a dog like Happy for me.
He rarely got into trouble. The occasionally chasing of a bicyclist or barking at deliveries was all the harm he had ever done. Sometimes it was hard to even classify him as “dog”. Even when Emily was gone, he never treated me with the love he gave her. I think he was recharging during those times. He used me to provide food for him and a place to use the restroom. Every morning when I would wake up, he would pass me in the hallway on his way to lay on my side of the bed. Though I’m sure in his mind he was waiting for me to get out of his side of the bed. I’d like to think he really enjoyed finding rest in the indentation my shoulder left on the mattress, but I really think he was just reclaiming the spot with “his” scent. And I’m pretty sure the big hole by my shoulder was exactly the size of Happy.
Never the less, I loved that dog. I could write a book based on the life of Happy. It would be called “I, Happy”. If any a pet would have a book written about them, it would certainly be him.
It wasn’t exhaustion I saw in his eyes, it was peace. Knowing that his time had come to an end, he laid there completely victorious, a job well done. He wouldn’t quit. He would never give up despite poor health and tremendous fatigue, to care for his family. Happy gave us an example of what complete unselfish and unconditional love is. And for that I am incredibly grateful.
When I moved to lay with him on the cold, hard floor, He leaned into me. For the first time ever in the history of our togetherness, HE leaned into me. He offered a lightly audible grunt that seemed to have said,
“She’s yours now. I believe you finally understand what it takes to love someone the way they need and deserve to be loved. I trust you, don’t ever forget what I’ve shown you.”
I won’t, Happy. In those final moments I realized that I did have a dog just like Happy. I had Happy. A dog that was there for me and helped me in the areas I needed it the most.
We said goodbye that morning as Happy drifted peacefully into eternity in our hearts, never to be forgotten.
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