He was not “just” a dog
"When MS and trigeminal neuralgia attacked my face, Oisín looked at me as if to say, “I’m here, I got you, I’m not going anywhere. You can count on me. ” In addition, when daily severe fatigue kept me depleted of energy, he showed me we could always play when I felt better. The list was endless. Oisín was the easiest-to-please MS nurse who learned fast and forgot even faster, just like his human. He reminded me that there is always tomorrow when my body refused to cooperate."
About a dog, vaccines, and a bit of multiple sclerosis
Us human beings, a not-at-all-divinely created homo sapiens breed, take our own reputation in life more seriously than necessary. I suppose we all fall prey to the fallacy of thinking that especially since we’re humans, we get to flatter ourselves on having an exceptional, advanced brain that already gave up all its grey and white matter secrets. Sadly, not so. Like Christopher Hitchens used to say, “We are merely half a chromosome away from chimpanzees, and it shows.”
Something woofin’ is coming!
Stay tuned!
Oh, there’s the dog thing…
You and I will have to overcome certain difficulties, one of which is my perceived view on time, while I know time is a non-existent concept to you. Both of us have body clocks, but that’s about as far as your time management goes.
Paper dreams
Have you ever wondered, “What exactly is my purpose on our little shining blue ball floating around in our vast universe?” Have you? Congratulations, so have I! It took me the better part of my teenage years to get to the stage where I thought, “Yes! Eureka! Yes, I found out what I am doing here!” Translated, it sounded more like this, “I know where I am going to live!” Part of the master plan that had been hiding in my unconscious mind had already been set in motion, albeit drifting rebelliously between my conscious and the harder to access unconscious level, before mischievously appearing again.
A Dog’s Life, by Jonathan Robin
Sixteen years, now almost seventeen, I’ve played at stick and ball, stayed seldom still until good master’s call would whistle shrill to lead me back – no need to smack. Sight keen. Sixteen years tail’s wagged as faithful friend, as boon companion, running round fun years. His mother passed away, I shared the tears that fountained forth and never seemed to end. Sixteen years round each revolving moon from hearth and home I pick up slightest sound, ears prick, eyes bright, in sight I’m always found to hold my ground, though often play buffoon.
He is my dog, by Gene Hill
When I am wrong, he is delighted to forgive. When I am angry, he clowns to make me smile. When I am happy, he is joy unbounded. When I am a fool, he ignores it. When I succeed, he brags. Without him, I am only another man. With him, I am all-powerful. He is loyalty itself. He has taught me the meaning of devotion. With him, I know a secret comfort and a private peace. He has brought me understanding where before I was ignorant. His head on my knee can heal my human hurts.
