HughDrackman
3 of a Kind
One week ago, my dog, Hedwig, passed away. She was the best dog. Everyone always says that whenever their dog dies, and everyone is always right, because they’re all the best dog.
In January of 2018, my ex-wife and I were on the lookout for a new dog. We were prone to walking in parks, and I would constantly remark about all the dogs we saw, and say that I wanted to love them all.
We knew a small dog would be best for our living situation, so when we saw Hedwig advertised at the Denver Max Fund, we made it a point to book an early reservation to see her.
The first time I met Hedwig, she was timid. I’m sure she was scared and probably didn’t know what was going on, but she cautiously approached us, testing to see if we were good people. It was obvious that she had reason to doubt the kindness of humans.
Regardless, it didn't take long for her to warm to us, and she climbed into my lap during that first meeting. From there, it was a foregone conclusion: she had chosen us.
What followed was seven years of continuous love from that tiny dog. Seven years of couch snuggles, nose kisses, and summertime afternoon naps. Seven years of hardships, sicknesses, and indoor bathroom accidents.
She helped me through a divorce, a pandemic, and the loss of my uncle. With her, I was the best version of myself, and the worst. There were times when I was loud, selfish, and angry. I lost my patience with her, yelled at her when she was bad, and begged her forgiveness when I screwed up. And through it all, her default approach to me was love.
She still crawled into my lap and let me know that she chose me, every day.
I thought I had more time with her. I thought we had years more together. I took her to the vet the day before she passed, and things seemed to be getting better.
Maybe she figured her work was done. That she had shepherded me through the hardships she was supposed to, and was ready for her next assignment. Maybe she knew our cat, Faustin, could pick up the baton she passed to him and make sure he finished the work she started.
Regardless, I know she was the best dog because she chose me, despite all my flawed humanity. Dogs are our models for unconditional love, and Hedwig exemplified that curriculum every day. Each morning was a new opportunity to learn from her example, and I became a better human just by having her in my life.
She really was the best dog. Fuck. They all are.
In January of 2018, my ex-wife and I were on the lookout for a new dog. We were prone to walking in parks, and I would constantly remark about all the dogs we saw, and say that I wanted to love them all.
We knew a small dog would be best for our living situation, so when we saw Hedwig advertised at the Denver Max Fund, we made it a point to book an early reservation to see her.
The first time I met Hedwig, she was timid. I’m sure she was scared and probably didn’t know what was going on, but she cautiously approached us, testing to see if we were good people. It was obvious that she had reason to doubt the kindness of humans.
Regardless, it didn't take long for her to warm to us, and she climbed into my lap during that first meeting. From there, it was a foregone conclusion: she had chosen us.
What followed was seven years of continuous love from that tiny dog. Seven years of couch snuggles, nose kisses, and summertime afternoon naps. Seven years of hardships, sicknesses, and indoor bathroom accidents.
She helped me through a divorce, a pandemic, and the loss of my uncle. With her, I was the best version of myself, and the worst. There were times when I was loud, selfish, and angry. I lost my patience with her, yelled at her when she was bad, and begged her forgiveness when I screwed up. And through it all, her default approach to me was love.
She still crawled into my lap and let me know that she chose me, every day.
I thought I had more time with her. I thought we had years more together. I took her to the vet the day before she passed, and things seemed to be getting better.
Maybe she figured her work was done. That she had shepherded me through the hardships she was supposed to, and was ready for her next assignment. Maybe she knew our cat, Faustin, could pick up the baton she passed to him and make sure he finished the work she started.
Regardless, I know she was the best dog because she chose me, despite all my flawed humanity. Dogs are our models for unconditional love, and Hedwig exemplified that curriculum every day. Each morning was a new opportunity to learn from her example, and I became a better human just by having her in my life.
She really was the best dog. Fuck. They all are.
