The Best Day of My Life

I used to think the best day of my life was right at the start. Not the day I was born because I don’t remember that, of course. It was the day Mom and Dad took me Home. I had spent a couple of months in a smelly cardboard box with my siblings, squirming around sightless and confused. My only goal each day was to get a couple sucks of milk from the big dog, which looking back with the knowledge of Beggin Strips, hardly seems worth the trouble. By the time I could see and stand, though, Mom and Dad were there to rescue me. Mom and Dad. Beautiful tall, lanky creatures craning down to cradle me. You might have heard that dogs are afraid of people, but I'll tell you I never felt anything but warmth from my giant saviours. They wrapped me in a tattered towel (that I still have to this day) and Mom embraced me so close that I could feel her heart beating while Dad drove us Home on my very first car ride.

I would say this was the best day of my life, but it was more like a year. Just a pure blissful existence. Play dates at the park. Long walks around the pond,chasing filthy frogs away from my family. Slow, soft snuggles as the sun peeked through the bedroom window, stretching together, this way and that, to welcome the morning sun. What a sweet existence. I thought nothing could go wrong or slow my serenity.

But things started to go downhill, as things do. Don’t get me wrong, I love my family, yet things started to change. Maybe not change so much as expand. After a mere year, our family of three swelled significantly. First was the Cat. Ugh, God, the Cat. I know it’s such a stereotype that cats and dogs don’t get along. Let me be clear, I don’t hate the Cat. I just don’t get him. He's completely cared for, doted on. Shouldn't have a care in the world. Yet somehow,he is a total jerk. And I’m stuck with him each endless day that Mom and Dad leave and might never come back. I’ve tried tirelessly to teach him how to intimidate the birds out the window or search for lost tennis balls, but all he ever does is lay in the sole patch of sunshine, ignoring me for hours or giving me dirty looks when I walk by. I've heard, from Mom and Dad, it's kind of like dealing with coworkers. We just have different personalities, I guess, and it’s unfortunate that we’re stuck together, day in, day out.

Then came the babies. Or kids, I should say. Jim and Dan. Good enough kids, I guess, but I had no idea they were coming. No warning, just one day, Mom returned home from a long mysterious trip with a white, wriggling creature. Cute creatures, then. They were great when they were babies. So small and weak, they needed my protection, and for about a year each time, I had a raison d’etre. Any strange dog walking by our house or gust of wind against the door would rue the day they came near my baby. Yet, after all that service, by the time they started crawling around with me I was nothing but a stuffed chew toy to them. I mean, they really treated me like dirt. They wiped snot on my fur, pulled my tail, and would sometimes even, I’m ashamed to say, ride me. Me! Their fierce protector had turned into a mere tricycle. Mom and Dad would say they didn’t know any better, and I’m sure that’s true, but it still rather took a toll on my sense of self.

So this is how I’ve been living life and it’s been fine, albeit somewhat disappointing. It’s hard when you know how good things can be but you can’t do a darn thing about it. What could I do? Bark all day and night, with feverish anxiety, to convey my ennnui? Hide in some dark corner, weeping and whining each day away? What am I, the Cat? And yet, he would never do that. He doesn't what I feel or love how I love. Or miss what I miss. It's been a hard few years, for sure. I'd nearly lost all hope and nerve. I fear what I could have become.

And then, earlier this week, something happened. It had been a long winter, but somehow this day the chill stood in the air like no other. The stillness was palpable and my morning walk felt fraught with fear. Had my melancholy infected my family? Did I get worms from the geese droppings I'd been inspecting (for scientific reasons) somehow spread throughout my kin? I could not discern it was my fault and they didn't insinuate it was. But things were still off. Mom did not leave for what seemed like an eternity. Dad did got out but then came right back Home with his arms stuffed full of bags. The Kids were home, too, but were too tied into their tablets to bother with me. When they did, it was only for precious pets, like they couldn't believe how lucky they were to have me as their guard dog. Later that first day, Mom started taking me on long, luxurious walks again, like when I first came Home. Dad’s bags were full of incredible things, like dog treats and bacon and toilet paper. (well, toilet paper, if used properly to blow snot and discard into an accessible wastebasket, is wonderful). He tousled the top of my head, like I was his number one Kid and beamed at me with pride. Pride! What had I done? Maybe, I had just been here all along, emanating love, waiting for the time for its proper reciprocation. The philosophy seemed sound, but the mechanics still puzzled me. I asked the Cat what was going on, but he just turned over to sun his starboard side. Could they be going on a trip? Where were the suitcases? There were none.They'd finally decided to just stay home with me. Little old me. And the next day was the same. And the next. And the next.

Could it be I’ve returned to the glory of my youth? Have I died and gone to Heaven? All I know is that I always loved my family, but never more than today.