Books Are Like Dogs

Havana never stayed in a room longer than she wanted to; she said hello, hung out for a bit, and then found a quiet spot that suited her better.

Havana smiled.

Havana loved to crawl under the covers to take a nap.

Havana could be sneaky, but was never mean spirited.

Havana liked red wine, but did not drink it often.

Havana enjoyed riding shotgun on trips to the dump and Home Depot.

Havana knew how to spend time with people who found themselves in need of a friend.

Havana was my first dog as an adult, and she passed away last night (July 10, 2015) in the field behind my parents’ house.  My husband and I were the ones who found her.

Havana didn’t suffer (to my knowledge). From the look of things, she was probably on one of her many expeditions, when suddenly she felt the need to lay down. 

She found the perfect spot: among the tall grasses, tucked in the slight rolling hills of Maryland horse country. 

She curled up, the rays of the afternoon sun warming her chocolate brown fur, and listened to the whisper of the wind and the friendly call of the bluebirds.

And with one final beat of her heart, Havana slipped quietly from this life, just like she had from so many rooms, and found a place that suited her better.   

~ ~ ~

Since as far back as I can remember, I have always loved dogs.  It was as I was writing this post, that I realized I have never in my life not had a dog for even one single day.  I don’t say this to win some kind of prize (and I apologize for the double negative), but instead to recognize how incredibly lucky I have been.  Think about it, for my entire life I have received truly unconditional love whenever I have needed it, and even when I wasn’t aware I was getting it.  I have never truly been alone.  No matter what has been going on in my life, I have been able to sit quietly with a friend who accepted and loved me on my best and worst days.  I was never judged.  I was never turned away.  Instead I was always greeted with a wagging tail and an excited look, even if I had only been gone 5 minutes.  When I was ready, they were ready.  They are a part of my life’s story and bore witness to every major milestone in my life.  In a lot of ways, dogs are like something else I have always loved…books.   

I have always loved books.  As far back as I can remember, books have been an integral part of my life. Once again I have been lucky.  I was born into a family that loves books and have never spent one day without one.  Whether I was being read to, reading on my own, or reading to others, books have been there for me time and time again.  They too love unconditionally.  No matter what is happening in my world, or what kind of day I am having, they open their pages to me and allow me to fall into theirs.  With books in my life, I have never truly been alone; I have had hundreds and hundreds of characters to keep me company.  Books have helped me to better understand myself and others and have enriched my life in countless ways.  Books have been my go-to when I need to understand what is happening, connect with someone else, or, again, feel a little less alone.

~ ~ ~ 

So as I looked for Havana last night, before I knew she was truly gone, I thought of books. 

I thought of young Rose in Rain Reign and how I too would not give up hope. 

I was taken back to when she was a puppy and I first knew she would be mine.  I had immediately envisioned us having a bond like Willy and Searchlight or Henry and Ribsy.  Even though I was 21 at the time, I felt like I was 10 again. 

I pictured Havana smiling.  Yes, Havana could actually smile on cue, but also did so when she was feeling excited, nervous, or sensed someone needed to smile themselves. She also knew when people were in need of a friend; it was as if she could sense when people were feeling truly lonely or discouraged. She could get even the most resistant of people to smile back. For these reasons, the first time I read Because of Winn Dixie, I was certain Ms. DiCamillo had met Havana at some point.  I also know that I fell in love with all Kate DiCamillo’s books because she captured the parts I loved best about Havana.

And then this morning, as we buried Havana alongside her brother Sampson, who my parents had picked on the same day Havana picked me 11 years ago, I knew we had to plant a red fern between them.  It gave me solace knowing they were back together again like Big Dan and Little Ann.

Because of books, I can say goodbye to Havana with a deep sense of peace and an appreciation for what we had together.  Without a doubt, my relationship with my dog was richer because of words on a page.