I mean, I have cats and I love them. But once upon a time, I had Lukey Bear.
He's been gone for 3 1/2 years, and I still miss him every day. He was a Great Pyrenees, who loved us with everything he had. His drool. His fur. His magnificent, plumy tail. His "Pyr paw". His incessant nose boops. His snuggles. His eyes.
Oh, his eyes. So soulful, especially as he grew older. When I looked into those deep brown eyes, as he grew older, the more he communicated with them. Like the time we put reindeer antlers on him.
When he would lay down in a huff, on his belly, with his arms and legs tucked under him, and his long nose resting on his front paws, he looked like a snow covered mountain. When he was sleepy, his face would squish and his closed eyes looked so cute, like he was squeezing them shut to focus on sleeping; yet he was always on alert.
If I said his name, though... he'd continue to lay just like that, but peek with his eyes to estimate the importance of my getting his attention. If he thought that it was important enough to open his eyes wider, he would. More often than not, I would tell him, "Who's a good boy? Lukey's a good boy". And he'd smile, and go back to sleep.
Great Pyrenees are independent thinkers. They are for guarding sheep, and they know how to do their jobs. As much as they love their human pack members, if they decide something else is more important, they will go do that, and not obey the command, "come". However, as they joyfully run ahead of you, they'll glance back and see if you're playing along in the run.
He went on "adventures" many, MANY times. And he'd come back, eventually, with that excited look on his face, like he had just had the best time of his life. Even though he couldn't tell me all of the things he got to do on his adventures, his eyes told me everything I needed to know, and that was, "I wanna do it again!"
About a month before he passed, at the old man age of 11, he had gone on his final adventure around our neighborhood. Even though he wasn't running quite as fast as before, and his woofs weren't as loud as before, he had the best time. I know, because I was running after him. His eyes were shining from the fun, and I could see the puppy still in those eyes.
The day before he passed, he had come up to me by my desk in my camera room, his eyes so hopeful, so loving, and I hold onto that memory so tightly. He laid at my feet, with a huff, his chin and nose resting on his paws. Without moving his head, he looked up at me with love and a "thank you for being my muzzy-wuzzy".
The next day, he was gone.
When I work with my clients' dogs, they often realize that their dog is so old, that they now have to have family photographs of everyone together. I love that. However, I do encourage people to include their beloved pets in their sessions early on because they are definitely a part of the family.
Bee in love with the heartwork of your life.
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