Po: If Dogs Could Read

Dear Po,

I wonder if I see you today if you would recognize me or still know me by smell…I don’t even know if you are still alive. You were taken away from me when my back was turned and I didn’t get to tell you goodbye and thank you. Not in words of course, but through the unspoken opticals which we share that says ‘I love u human’ and ‘I love u dog’. Life was a shitstorm and I would step out of its muck and push through an iron gate at the end of the day. And you would be there eagerly awaiting my arrival. You would greet me with the happiest tap dance and give my knee a hug and sometimes an excited blast of pee on my shoe which I learnt to dodge. I would look at you in awe wondering how you could love me so unconditionally and without judgement, with full acceptance when I, nor any human, ever could. I wondered if you saw the hollow places inside of me masquerading as wholeness. When those dark-marble brown eyes looked into my weathered brown eyes did they see potential or substance yet to be extracted, appreciated? For you were my biggest supporter. When I failed and struggled, you loved me. When I was consumed by anger, impatience and sadness, you loved me. Maybe dogs can’t love. Maybe its instinctual loyalty but your reaction to a lost teenager when she felt so ordinary in this life made her feel happy and valuable, like there were possibilities and people for her beyond the pile of bad experiences. You were her good friend, her confidante and her adorable protector. If you could speak you would likely say ‘humans cling to complexity and defenses beyond reason, learning new ways to do the same things’ and though you are looked down upon you know more than they do that love is straightforward and makes its way through the superficial until it finds the core of a being. Wishful thinking maybe but one thing is for certain, you, ‘a pet’, did what your superiors often cannot: dote and sway destinies. For that, I will never forget you. May we meet again, in this life or the next.

Love,

Your human, Rudy.