"There is no
greatness where there is not simplicity, goodness and truth." - Leo
Tolstoy
Our dog, Raffi, died a few weeks
ago and that made everyone who knew him over the 11 long years of his life sad.
There wasn't much that was special about Raffi. In fact,
it was his lack of "special-ness" that made him great. He was a
simple-minded fellow who barked too much, didn't mind very well and pulled WAY
too hard on his leash, in spite of all the training tricks we tried...
He was also a loving boy who showed up every day of his life
with enthusiasm and joy, ready to participate in whatever adventure (or
non-adventure) lay ahead. Raffi didn't care if
nothing at all happened or if something amazing, like a raccoon ending up in
the yard, occurred. He lived every day to its fullest and the simple pleasure
with which he did so could serve to inspire us all.
When Raffi was little we called
him "Chockie Pie" (for "Chocolate
Pie.") He was a pound puppy, a chocolate Lab mutt, who we got to keep our
big, fancy Rottweiler, Pru, company, after her dog
friend, Mona, died. Raffi didn't start out as the
sharpest tool in the shed and years of being tossed about playfully by a Rottweiler didn't add to his mental acuity, but, that
didn't matter. Raffi seemed to know he was never meant
to be the brains of the operation and he excelled in his role as enthusiastic
playmate and clown.
Our kids were in high school when Raffi
was young, so there was plenty of love, toys, games and attention lavished upon
him in his early years. One of his favorite games was "Red Dot,"
which involves chasing a red laser light for as long as someone is willing to
point it. We played Red Dot Raffi's whole life, but
it always surprised me when, years later, one of the kids' grownup friends
would stop by and Raffi would immediately run to the
toy basket and start barking, as if to say, "I remember you! It's time to
play Red Dot again!" Raffi never let being
simple-minded get in the way of keeping track of the things that really mattered...
Another surprising thing about Raffi
was that he seized the role of "protector" early on and remained
strong in it for the rest of his life, no matter how many other dogs passed
through our lives. Definitely "a lover, not a fighter," Raffi was, however, steadfast in his ability to keep our
home, yard and the other pets safe from intruders. Over the years, Raffi killed three rabid raccoons, countless rats and
possums, and made sure other unwelcome creatures, like feral cats and stray
dogs, knew to stay away from our yard.
Late in life, Raffi suffered from
arthritis and clusters of large, inoperable, non-cancerous fatty tumors. Even
with medicine and mobility aids, these things impacted his ability to get
around the way he wanted to, but that didn't get Raffi
down. He just kept smiling and striving, building up
strength in the limbs he needed to help compensate for the failing ones...I've
never seen a creature fail physically, over so many years, while so cheerfully
embracing the challenges of maintaining his quality of life. Up until the very
end, Raffi took his walks and went up and down the
stairs to sleep in his bed next to mine. He kept barking; he kept eating; he
kept playing with his toys; and, he kept protecting his yard and his dog
friends.
How Raffi loved sitting in his
yard at the end of the day, surveying all that was his - all
that he had ever known, with a contented look on his face. And, later,
when it got to be too hard to go down into the yard, how he loved sitting on
the back porch in the evening sun, watching his world settle in for yet another
night...
In these days of reality TV, YouTube,
Smartphones and everyone's a rock star on their own
right, Raffi's approach to life seems like a
particularly valuable one. He had no illusions of grandeur; he never even tried
to be the Alpha dog. He knew his place in the pack and he embraced it. Raffi seemed comfortable knowing that no one much was
watching him and that chances were, even in our household of sometimes pretty
ratty rescue dogs, the dog all eyes would be on, would never be him.
Yet, he did his best to live, love, contribute, enjoy and
make a difference in whatever dog-way he could, each and every day. The world
might be a simpler, more pleasant place if more of us approached our days the
way Raffi did, finding greatness through our own
goodness, enthusiasm and simplicity ...Rest
in peace, old Buddy; you will be much missed.
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