Lily and the Octopus

by Steven Rowley

But inside I’m wondering why on the day of my sister’s union more people aren’t thinking about me.

Because dogs live in the present. Because dogs don’t hold grudges. Because dogs let go of all of their anger daily, hourly, and never let it fester. They absolve and forgive with each passing minute. Every turn of a corner is the opportunity for a clean slate. Every bounce of a ball brings joy and the promise of a fresh chase.

“If you spend your entire life trying to cheat death, there’s no time left over to embrace life.” He puts his hand on my shoulder and it is warm. “Don’t be afraid. That’s all I’m saying.”

I use my words, my artist’s charcoal, to describe to Kal what I’m thinking.

“That’s just it. A person’s. Dogs, on the other hand . . . dogs have pure souls. Look at me.” I grab her chin and look straight into her eyes. “Dogs are always good and full of selfless love. They are undiluted vessels of joy who never, ever deserve anything bad that happens to them.

We’re too often guilty of thinking that our parents arrived on this planet as fully functioning adults on the day that we were born. That they don’t have pasts of their own prior to our birth. That the father is not also a son, that the mother is not also a child.

My mother had a tough beginning, enduring things I know little about. And yet I more often discount her pain and overvalue mine.

Yours is by far the harder lot, but mine is happening to me. In this moment, I miss my mother.

He continues about how what we have can be taken from us. Even what we have that is special. And when it is taken, we will be tested.

A heart is judged not by how much you love, but by how much you are loved by others. There will be two drugs. The second will stop her heart.

I’ve read a lot of Lord Byron of late; he had a Newfoundland, named Boatswain, who was the inspiration for one of his more famous works, “Epitaph to a Dog.” Near this Spot are deposited the Remains of one who possessed Beauty without Vanity, Strength without Insolence, Courage without Ferocity, and all the virtues of Man without his Vices.

But the poor Dog, in life the firmest friend, The first to welcome, foremost to defend.