The Wayfaring Philosopher

Thursday, February 21, 2013On Being and a Dog

9:47pm. Saturday, February 16, 2013. Jazzman's Café. Poughkeepsie, NY.

This is a picture of a good friend of mine. He wasn't a part of my life for a long time, but he was quite a special being and this particular blog post is going to be about the philosophy he taught me during our short time together.
My grandmother helps to run a dog rescue operation called R.S.V.P (Responsible Solutions for Valued Pets) near her home in Hampton Bays, NY. She often takes in animals that are too old, too sick or too behaviorally challenged to fit into normal living situations. At any given time she usually has between 14 and 18 dogs living with her, all with their own specific issues that deem them "unadoptable." For about 20 years now, my grandmother has taken in a significant portion of Long Island's problem dogs. Her story is incredible and she is a dear, dear person... but that's for another post.
My grandmother acquired my friend, Cuddles because his previous owner became too old to care for him. Cuddles had one paw that was atrophied and people who might have adopted him worried that a dog who could only walk using three legs might fall down stairs or become injured when playing with children. I'm sure they worried that other animals might hurt him or that he wouldn't play fetch like other, "normal" dogs. They were right about one thing -- he was far from ordinary.
After a visit to Hampton Bays last Easter, my little brother, Mickey fell in love with Cuddles. With a significant amount of begging, my mother agreed to take Cuddles home to our house in Connecticut. After all, Cuddles was too young-spirited and healthy to fit into my grandmother's hospice-like environment. Mickey (my brother) is also somewhat of a distinctive individual like Cuddles, and I think the two of them might have been drawn together across a universe of possibilities to find exactly what they each needed in the time an space in which they converged. Mickey -- a friend, some responsibility, a purpose and unconditional love. Cuddles -- someone to accept him, someone young to play with, and a family all his own. After a few weeks, Mickey nicknamed Cuddles "High Five" because of the way he looked running towards you on three legs, with a smile on his face, with his gimpy paw raised up as if to say "hey man, high five!" Given a chance, anyone who knew High Five grew to love him.
His very being was unlike any other I've ever met. His story is complex; we don't know exactly how he got his trademark paw, his particular age, or what would prevent a dog with his kind of joyful spirit from joining a family before ours came along. I'm sure he faced a lot of hardship in his lifetime, but he never let it faze him. He played a mean game of fetch even on three legs, he never fell down the stairs, and he could jump about twice his body height. He never refrained from being so blissfully at peace with exactly who he was and he never let it limit him. He taught me that at the end of the day, being is about giving your best self to the world despite what the world assumes your best self can be.
While we often assume limits are imposed on us by the world, Cuddles taught me that so many of our limits are those that we allow the world to impose on us. He was a furry little wordless reminder to be strong when others assume you are weak, to be happy when you have reasons to be unhappy. This was the ontology (the philosophical theory of being and/or existence) he imparted to me, and given an entire existence full of abilities and opportunities to for empowerment, I'll count myself lucky if I'm half the being he was.
Cuddles died this past Thursday -- Valentine's Day. He became suddenly ill with pancreatitis and unfortunately his body did not recover. However, he left me with one last lesson concerning being, that is: right now he exists as so much more than a crippled, dead dog. He continues to be in my mind and he has left a tiny gimpy paw print in the fabric of my experience. And that's just me. High Five communicated in silence what I am begging the blog gods to give me words for right now. I know I haven't done this little dog justice but I hope that what I've been able to capture about him here helps to preserve his theory. I hope his story permeates your experience and in affecting you and me both, he will never cease to be but rather live on in a smile, a high five, a choice to believe you are good enough in the face of someone who tells you that you are not. His last lesson to me was that being is more than just you alone in a body- it is your essence that extends into the world and, depending on the attitude you bring, it lives on, regardless of whether or not you exist, you continue to be.

Thanks High Five.
chelsea richardson at 9:58 AM
Share No comments:

Post a Comment

› Home
View web version

The Wayfaring Philosopher
Powered by Blogger