I just saw a little comic, like a drawing, not a short comedian, on The Book that caught my attention. Drawn by a 14 year old, it was a four panel illustration titled, "The Value of a Dog."
The first panel showed a girl siting in the corner, all by herself. She's curled up and her head is down, she's obviously upset about something. In the next panel, she starts to cry and her dog pokes it's little face into the frame, matching it's sniffs with the girl's sniffles. In the third panel, the dog approaches her and she looks up, while in the final panel the dog is snuggled into her arm, comforting her as she wipes her tears away.
Sigh. Sniffle. Truth.
My favorite part of the comic is that there are no words. The intuitiveness of a dog. I know they can't speak our human words in our human languages, but I doubt they would even if they could. They are far too smart for that and they trust their feelings in a way that is completely foreign to most of us humans. Many of us are fixers or we over process our feelings, like we can't just own the feelings; we have to assign special meanings to them (yes, I am totally guilty) or inflate our senses of self-worth with them.
Both of the bitches are being extra snuggly and protective tonight. They pick up the energy. It was one of those days in which a few tears were shed. Two people I care very deeply about are struggling with cancer. One had some pretty good news, while the other's wasn't so great. Two people I love more than nearly any other humans are struggling with addiction. One got wasted today and the other called me from treatment to say hello. I have to recognize that balance and be grateful that there is healing in this world. And I am going to try and help my friends with a cue from my Bitches--that sometimes, just being there for them and their families, is the best gift I can give. No words are needed. A listening ear and a hug, just like the paw that's draped over my foot as I type.
