Honey

"No, not the sweet syrup that honey bees make, my dog Honey. She is a pitbull/boxer cross, about 7 years old and the sweetest dog you can imagine. We got her from the pound in Victoria when she was 3 years old. She had had 6 owners by that point but when we took her out of the pound and put her in the suburban, she knew she had found her forever home.

My last pet, a dear cat named Cinnamon had died a few days earlier. We had not planned on having any more pets, having lived through the life and death of innumerable fish, a bird, mice, 3 rabbits, 2 cats and our beloved dog Sandy. However the stillness and emptiness of our house in the days following Cinnamon's death ( we had him put down, he broke his leg getting out of the litter box and at 17 years of age there was really nothing that could be done for him) was too much for me. I had lived in a house with a steady stream of pets for 17 straight years, since Cinnamon and his sister Misty arrived as little balls of fur about the same time Phillip brighten my life.

We went on a search for the perfect dog, I got books from the library, bought magazines listing all different breeds, read all kinds of advice and in the end it was the heart that prevaled, not the logic. We visited pet stores, the S.P.C.A., and then because we had nothing better to do, we drove out towards the ferry terminal and stopped at the pound. We were just looking, not shopping, just looking.

We walked into bedlam. Dogs barking and jumping, crying pick me, pick me. And there she was, standing quietly, with dignity and such sad, beautiful eyes. She pushed her muzzle against the wire of the cage, so that she could touch my hand and I was in love. The man running the pound ask if we would like to take her out and play with her in the yard. Of course, what a silly question. She was an angel, retreiving the kong and bringing it back to me like we had played together forever.

We were told she was a pitbull. I couldn't believe it, this beautiful, sweet, gentle dog was one of those. Her name was Honey and no explanation was needed, she was a honey of a dog and as we were to discover later, when she curls up to sleep and her body heats up she smells like wonderful warm honey. Yes, the kind those honey bees make. She has never smelled like dog, a big plus as far as I am concerned!

We brought her home, to her forever home and she has given us far more than we have ever given her. She brightens my life on a daily basis, gives me unconditional love, expecting nothing in return but a gentle hand on her head and a loving word in her ear.

Honey is getting old. According to vets she is a "senior" already. Her muzzle is getting white, as is around her eyes, she sleeps more and this past week she has developed a limp in her left leg. I now realized that, like my other fur babies, she won't be with me forever and I can't bear the thought. She has been there for me, through some hard times, when I had to quit working due to illness, on a cross country move to a new place and new people, and through an emotional period of personal growth. All I have had to do is reach for her and she has been there, her soft, gentle eyes reminding me that I am not alone, that things will get better, that there is always hope.


I hope there are still a few good years left in this wonderful animal because I am not yet ready to say goodbye. That is as hard to do as saying hello sometimes, to a new idea, a new person, a new life. When she was in the pound she acted with dignity and courage and hope and she found a new life. How can I an adult woman, act with less? I know Honey will face the end of her life with the same dignty she has lived it, and I will be there for her. But her passing will leave an empty spot in my heart, for like people, dogs are individuals and they become as much a part of you as anyone you can imagine. I only hope my future brings me another dog that will give me the same love and opportunities to learn as she has and that I can face the uncertain future with the same dignity and courage that Honey has." I whisper.

Are you listening?