Yesterday was April 19. It was the anniversary of our dog Farley's death four years ago. That is also the anniversary of the Oklahoma City bombing in 1995, as well as the anniversary of the tragic end to the siege on the Branch Davidian Cult. Today, April 20th, marks the anniversary of the massacre at Columbine. So much tragedy in the world, as I continue to remember my neurotic little Farley.
Farley was with me in 1995 when we watched the Alfred P. Murrah building crumble to the ground. It was nearly incomprehensible to me, and I don't think I fully grasped what was happening. I was a newlywed, home sick from work that day, and I just happened to have the t.v. on. I remember being scared and knowing this was a Big Deal. Two years before, the end came for the Branch Davidians in a fiery siege. It seemed so far removed to me, as a young 22-year-old caught up college life. So, these big things happened in the world on April 19, and then Columbine April 20, 1999. I remember these tragedies as well as my sweet little dog Farley.
Actually, she wasn't all that sweet. She was pretty neurotic, and probably would have been diagnosed with an anxiety disorder if she were a different species...but we loved her in spite of (or because of????) her...quirks. She pooped in our car...more than once. She chewed through the seatbelts in the backseat of our car. She chewed the window blinds. She was difficult to walk on a leash because she wanted to go where she wanted to go. You could try to guide her, or rein her in, but she would then hack and cough as if you were choking her to death. People would stop and look. She once got into a box of fine chocolate sent by my in-laws. Did I mention it was very fine chocolate? When we got home, the chocolate was gone, but there were some pretty vile poopies all through the apartment. Very vile poopies. Oh, and she also chewed our carpet. She had her fine points, too. When we welcomed Scooter the kitten into the home, Farley allowed the little gray cotton ball to nurse on her. Scooter would nestle in, and slurp away. After a month of having this little beast nibble on her, Farley gently growled to let Scooter know those days were over. She weaned the cat, and they became buddies.
Farley came to let us "eskimo kiss" her. Toward the end she and I used to put forehead to forehead, and I'd sing a little Farley song then kiss her between the eyes. The month before she died, Farley allowed me to take her to Jesse's classroom for "Show-and-Tell." She was fabulous! The 1st and 2nd graders sat in a circle, and I walked her by each child, who each gave her a gentle pat. She seemed to enjoy herself. When we got home, she decided to dictate a letter to the class through me, thanking the kids for inviting her. The kids loved it-a dog that writes. Just by being Farley, she helped Jesse fit in better with his classmates.
Farley was with us for nine years, and I do believe she knew she was deeply loved. We knew she loved us just as much. And I guess that's where hope blooms in the tragedies that also share the date of her death. It might be our "job," "business," or even "duty," but it is also our deepest desire to love and be loved. Farley was able to do that, despite abuse early in life. She was not a perfect dog, or even an easy dog, just like us humans at times (most of the time???). She served her purpose just by being Farley. Maybe we can do the same.