Typically when I walk in the home I'm greeted with a yippy little creature, that I guess you can call a dog, named Tess. It had been so long that I almost overlooked that momentous reunion with a treasured family member! Tess has been around a very long time... very! She's survived the, sometime painful, actions of careless children and a run in with coyotes. She's faced the stern instruction from a scary German owner/dad, marked plenty of territory and has fearlessly defended it from dogs 10x her size with her obnoxious squeak of a bark... and now she looking to fight time for all it's got.
It's perplexing to me that we can understand the mood of a dog so well. As part of our family, I have seen Tess excited, happy, upset, confused (complete with head tilt, haha), sad, irritated... It's a dead give away when she's the least bit scared or unhappy, her tail tucks down between her legs. I was surprised that my reception this time home was one of fear and sadness, complete with hidden tail! What had changed so much about me that she didn't recognize me? I did the usual high pitch, talk to a dog, voice, I gave her a good pet... she still would not cheer up. Granted, I did walk in with dad, and she usually goes into "I'm in trouble" mode around him. But, even five minutes after the fact, I greeted her again and, I still has a sense that she didn't know who I was. It wasn't until I sat down at the piano and played one of the few tunes that I play that she perked up and ran over to enjoy the sound, curled up in the corner where she would always lay. Now things are back to normal, she must now know that it's me, a friend.
Could it be her failing sight, her old age, her poor memory? or did I really change that much? I'm not sure why my longtime companion failed to recognize me more readily, but it got me thinking. Not only did I wonder about how I'll miss her when she's gone... but also how we communicate and remember. We have triggers, things that resonate with us particularly well because of experiences, interests and natural tendencies. When I lived at home there we're some things that I would always do with Tessie near by. Piano, TV, Movies, Books, Homework... for years I would have Tess even sleep on my bed! I had established a distinctive whistle that would always seem to bring her back when she would run off, and apparently one of the few songs I know on the piano drew us back together!
I can't tell you how many times I couldn't remember great experiences and stories until one key element resurrects the entire memory. Perhaps this is why we're counseled that life's more about people and serving than about where you end up. I hope that when I'm old I can sit and enjoy many treasured memories because of triggers embedded years ago. I can see Grandpa Steve sitting in the recliner, surrounded by the little grand children, shuffling through the objects, horded over years and years of life, each attached to a story or a beautiful moment ready to be relived.
Yeah that'll be a good day :)
...assuming the world doesn't actually end at the end of this week
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