Document text
An ode to furry friends By Sharon Johnson Sep 11, 2022 12:30 AM A A The animals owned by my children and grandchildren number more than a dozen. My granddaughter, Sarah, was given two kittens for her recent birthday and my daughter, Jenna, is considering a second Golden Retriever. A word about “Goldens.” Those are really big. When Mochi comes to visit, I stand next to my favorite stained-glass table lamp for the first 15 minutes protecting it from her rotating tail. Mochi wags it constantly with total lack of awareness of its power to topple; it could double as a weapon. But Mochi is far from combative. She is a balm for a busy family and a source of constant playful delight. Animals have that ability to make the world a better place. I plan to gift my animal-centric family copies of “The Friend” by Sigrid Nunez this year. It’s a sweet book, a National Book Award winner, “the moving story of love, friendship, grief, healing and the magical bond between a woman and her dog.” In one passage, the author quotes Isak Dinesen saying, “You can make any sorrow bearable by putting it into a story or telling a story about it.” At the center of this particular story is a woman who loses her lifelong best friend and mentor to suicide. She finds herself responsible for his huge Great Dane, a dog who weighs more than she does and, at least initially, doesn’t like her very much. Perhaps because she keeps telling him she’s “a cat person.” Perhaps because a 500-square-foot apartment in a building that does not allow dogs is a little confining. The “massive, traumatized, bereft, stinky dog” plays a major role in this tale, but the book is not just about human-canine friendship. It is a “mediation on loss and a celebration of devotion.” It’s about friendship. And it’s about frustration — from a dog’s perspective, “the endless trouble of making yourself understood to a human.” I am the devoted mother of an unwell dog. Lucy has a progressive neurological condition that makes her anxious and erratic. She has night terrors and daytime neediness. Lately there’s a lot more persistent phantom scratching and relentless paw-licking. She moans in her sleep. Her condition was long-ago diagnosed, and she is on various medications. I try to take really good care of her. She is my self-proclaimed therapy dog. I am there for her, and she is there for me. Perhaps that is why I found “The Friend” so engaging. It affected me profoundly. As I type those words, Lucy comes into the room and heaves herself down on the floor, edging herself slowly close so she is between my feet. She vocalizes in an interesting way and offers up a wide-awake snore, then rolls over on her back in the hope I will rub her tummy with my foot. I do. Sometimes, as Nunez does in her book, I read aloud what I have written to my four-legged friend. My reading does not seem to interest her; the tummy rubbing definitely does. Nunez has a new book titled “What Are You Going Through?” There’s a cat on the cover. Sharon Johnson is a retired educator. Reach her at [email protected]