Why dogs are better than people, part 32

Before I had kids, life was much more exciting for Emmett. We went to dog park all the time, I bought little dog cookies from specialty dog bakeries, I used to nap on his belly.

Life was good.

Then I had my daughter, and things got a lot more boring. We hung out at the house. He had to eat grocery store treats. I napped with the baby. It wasn’t that Emmett was less loved, or less important, or even that I thought things like specialty dog cookies were unnecessary now that I had a real kid. I just didn’t have the time. I mean, you could argue the same thing for what happened to my daughter after my son was born; life spreads you a little thinner with each new event, and you do the best you can. That being said, I understood when the dog who had been stellar for two years suddenly started peeing on strollers, eating diapers, and generally acting out. He got over it.

Now that the kids are older, I have a little more time to re-dedicate to dog parks and special cookies and the like, and I honestly intended to get right on that. It’s been 4 1/2 years since Emmett had me to himself, which doesn’t seem like that long ago at all, but it is. Now he’s middle aged. And now he has a terminal disease. I have a predetermined amount of time to make the past few years up to him.

The nice thing about dogs is, making amends takes all of 10 seconds. There is no long “I’m sorry” letter, no awkward reunions, no tearful accusations of neglect. Want to make up for not giving a dog a special cookie for a few years? Give him a special cookie. All is forgiven. (Apologies in advance for the blurriness of the pictures; I’m still learning the camera.)

Or in this case, a special doggie donut. Made of dog-friendly granola. It smelled like honey and seemed like it would be quite delicious.

I’m Emmett, I’m so sad, you know I’m sick, right? Want to give me a treat?

Yes, well, that will do quite nicely, I think.

Seriously? You’re seriously going to make me hold this on my nose? You DO know I’m a cancer patient, right? (And to that I respond, there is nothing more noble than going forth with life as it is normally, so yes, I made him balance the donut on his nose.)

The next 5 or 6 pictures were me realizing far too late that the fisheye lens does not have the capability to capture a clear picture of a dog messily devouring a donut with speed and great gusto. I guess the macro lens would have been a better choice. Trust me, though, he enjoyed it.

Only at the end did he slow down enough for me to get a somewhat clear shot of the sad remnants.

Voila! Happy dog.