Of Dogs and Men

I had a dog.
Her name was Danika.
She was a beautiful fawn Great Dane who would zoom around the yard at full tilt just for fun. She let kittens pounce on her tail, but wouldn’t hesitate to let the other dogs know who the queen was, curling her lips back to expose teeth in a manner that made you very glad she wasn’t directing that expression at you. More than 38 inches tall at the shoulder and easily 150 pounds, she still thought she could curl up on my lap for a nap, and sometimes, somehow, did exactly that.
When she shook her head, she actually made that sound that cartoon dogs make when they shake their heads

When she was five, she fell prey to leukemia.

Rapidly, she weakened.
I fixed a bed for her downstairs and slept beside her. Fed her by hand and then with a syringe until she refused to eat. I cleaned her up when she was no longer strong enough to get up and go out to urinate and defecate. When I could, I dragged her bed outside so she could lay in the sun (her favorite thing), feel the breeze, smell the day’s doings on the air.
She went down fast.
Overnight, it seemed, though I know it was weeks.
I loved that sweet dog.
And as much as I loved her, I hated the disease that took her strength, her energy and finally, her life.
There was nothing I could do to save her --- I tried everything including the impossible—nothing I could do but watch her go down and stay beside her until she was gone.
And I miss her.

I think of Danika today because it’s much the same feeling I have now about America.
The disease – a combination of greed, cowardice and hubris -- has stolen her strength, her energy, and, unchecked, will finally take her life.
And there appears to be nothing I can do to save her – I’ve tried everything including the impossible. There’s nothing I can do but watch her go down and stay beside her until she’s gone. I’ll stay beside her for the same reason I stayed beside my beautiful Danika.
I love her. And as much as I love her, I hate the disease.

I’ll miss her when she’s gone.

sj

I will go down with this ship
And I won't put my hands up and surrender
There will be no white flag above my door
I'm in love and always will be

“White Flag,” by Dido