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He has shoe-button eyes and a perfect bandit
face, and he seldom leaves my side. No bones about it, I'm
his first love. He wants nothing more than to lay in my
arms or look into my eyes. He would die for me. His name
is Happy Dog, and nothing gives him greater joy than to make
me laugh. It's easy. I'm the perfect target. I want to
laugh, and he knows it. What a funny little dog he is with
his long, low body, and a face that teases "Play with me."
Happy Dog was four months old when I discovered his
hilarious sense of humor. My husband and I were having one
of those "discussions" that husbands and wives get into, and
neither one of us was backing down. We were sitting at the
breakfast bar, and I had a clear view of our long hall.
Just as my voice turned to tense, clipped phrases, and my
husband's jaw began to stiffen, I saw a sudden flash of
black and tan.
What the
heck was that?! Suddenly, another black and tan flash came
from the opposite direction. What was that in his mouth? I
lost the thread of the argument, and I watched in
fascination as Happy Dog went flying down the hall carrying
a huge, white, fleece ball. The toy was nearly as big as he
was. He dashed down the hall with the ball, and then he
dashed back carrying a huge, white, fleece bone. The next
dash he was carrying a squeaky toy. He squeaked as he flew,
never missing a beat. The next trip back, he was squeaking
a ball and carrying it effortlessly past the breakfast bar.
It was
like watching one of those carnival ducks. Back and forth,
always with a different toy. Squeak! Squeak! Zip! Zip!
Here he comes! There he goes! I was enthralled, delighted,
and soon laughing. My husband quickly followed. What were
we arguing about? We couldn't remember. Happy had totally
diffused our "distemper." What a dog!
As most
dachshund lovers will confess, if you don't want a dachshund
to repeat a behavior, whatever you do, don't laugh. That's
an impossible task, because these dogs are pure and simple
clowns. It never fails, when I'm down in the dumps Happy
will look for something of mine to steal. Then the game's
afoot! Off he goes with a roll of toilet paper, a sock, or
my slipper. I'm yelling, "Hey! Give me that!" Then he
dashes off, pausing to look back when I'm too slow, and
giving me a delighted look. It's a merry chase, and I'm his
willing fool. My heart has been captured by this little
dog.
How is it
that he has such power over me? Pure love, unconditional.
Plain and simple. His entire world centers in my
happiness. That's all he wants. He has kept his watch by
my side during my darkest days of a life threatening
illness. He has rested his chin on my face during my
deepest sorrow, gently licking away my tears. He has made
me laugh, when I could find neither strength nor reason. He
has taught me more about God's love than a thousand
impassioned sermons. If God loves me more than this little
dog, I am loved indeed.
As we
approach Valentine's day, we have passed the first
anniversary of Happy's first spinal surgery, and we are fast
approaching the anniversary of his second, just a month
apart. He will soon be seven years old. That's fifty years
old, in dog years. We're nearly the same age.
We have
faced down the long dark together, and God has brought both
of us through. Life is a gift with this little dog by my
side. And nothing makes me more thankful than to have one
more Valentine's Day with my funny Valentine, Happy Dog.
Jaye Lewis
Jaye
Lewis is an award winning writer who looks at life from a
unique perspective, celebrating the miracles in the day to
day. Jaye's soon to be released book, Entertaining Angels,
is a reflection of that message. Jaye is also contributing
author of the recently released, Chicken Soup for the
Recovering Soul. Visit Jaye's website at
www.entertainingangels.org She lives and writes in the
beautiful mountains of
Virginia.
Email Jaye at jlewis@smyth.net |
