As awful as this week has been, I have found so much comfort in finding that others have been touched by my little dude as well. I know my sadness is no different than each of you who has also lost a dear friend. How sad for those who haven’t felt this kind of loss, because that means they never got to experience this kind of love.
When Emmett and I were at Dog Beach this Sunday, I was following along as Emmett nuzzled a woman for pets as he always does. After receiving his due, we continued to walk along the waterline. Her husband approached, a man with a big-guns type of camera around his neck, just like my husband. “Can I take a picture of your dog?” he asked.
I said sure. Emmett is nothing if not photogenic.
He snapped a couple of shots. “Get down by him,” he suggested, so I kneeled down and submitted to the kisses.
The man told me his e-mail address, a couple of times to make sure I had it committed to memory.
On Wednesday, I sent him an e-mail to see the pictures. I didn’t say anything about the circumstances, because if he was anything like my husband he would have a turnaround of a few weeks and I didn’t want to rush him. But he sent them along that night, and there I saw the two of us. I have a lot of pictures of Emmett, but I believe this was the only one of both of us together since the ill-fated Christmas 2003 picture where I made him wear a turtleneck sweater.
Pictures securely in hand, I sent this man a quick note to say thank you, and explain specifically why those shots meant even more than he could know.
And he responded with this:
“I am so very sorry for your loss. I truly enjoyed the way Emmett looked at you at the beach. I’ve never offered to take someone elses photo before, but for some reason I was moved. Now I am even happier that I did. I just looked at the your photos again and can seel how much Emmett adores you. I hope the many many fond memories you have of him offer you peace in your loss.”
Opening that e-mail in a public place was a poor decision on my part.
What a curious thing, that of the hordes of pets there that day, this person was moved by my dog. What little unseen soft noses pressed at the back of his knees, telling him that this was something he should do?
The pictures themselves I chose not to share. They are a moment I need to hold close. But the moment and the gesture is one that has left me a little breathless.
Thank you, Jeff.