It was a very delicate moment: the kind that can only
happen at the end of October, when the air is thick with a crisp lightness.
Even then, I wasn't sure why this small, intricate blush of gold seemed so
significant. The soft petals of the buttercup cracked the greyness in a way
that felt like sunlight. The stem hummed to itself, nestled between and above
concrete slabs. The flower reminded me of my life in a then-profound but
now-absurd kind of way, because it insisted on growing at what was undoubtedly
the worst time of year for it to grow. This singular blossom symbolized, in all
of its frail glory, the beauty and joy that could exist in a world tumbling
towards winter.
That is, until the puppy ate it.
It was essentially the stuff of myth and legend. Finneus
romped toward the flower—all legs, jubilant, ears flopping in the wind like
mudflaps on a clown car—and time slowed to a near-halt. At ten weeks, Finneus
was faster than I have ever been, didn't speak English, and certainly didn't
care if I had feelings. Resistance was futile. The flower's short life came to
a tragic end.
This occurred during Finneus and I’s first afternoon together.
I was confident that the entire incident was a bad omen. For the following two
months, if asked to describe him, I would explain that his fur was the color of
dung beetle wings, that his eyes were the color of dead tree bark, and that his
feet were dustier than a spaghetti Western set. Rescuing him from an animal
shelter was one of the most complex and stress-laden choices I have ever made.
Many people have experienced the phenomenon of adorable puppies.
What few will tell you in subsequent conversations is that their baby teeth are
sharper than approximately anything: nails, bayonets, a stack of pencils mere
hours before the SATs. Or that puppies become a kind of furniture-barnacle as
adolescents, clinging onto any and all possible surfaces.
Caring for a pet forces you to become acutely aware of the
needs of another living being without judgment or irritation. You do not raise
a dog with the hope that it will shuttle you from the retirement home to your
annual bingo tournament, favorably grace the cover of a major news publication,
or grow into your high school prom dress. You do it because you would like to
learn to see splendor in the eye of a destructive, furry tornado. Embracing the
responsibility and opportunity that accompanies nurturing an animal is
extremely challenging, particularly for someone emerging from the hazy ether of
academia or searching for the ‘right’ career. It isn’t all holiday-themed dog
outfits and quirky treat flavors, as social media might have you believe. It’s
tough. Puppies are a kind of chomping, slobbery, handsome love. They are hungry
for all that you have to give, and will teach you to give both that and more.
