Sweet Moment: That Dog

Last Tuesday, I took Bullet to the knee-replacement rehab facility to see Dad. He quivered on the way there because he didn’t know where he was going, but once he got there and saw my dad he was overjoyed. He jumped onto my dad’s leg and practically danced around the room singing, and my dad was so happy to see Bullet that he endured the pain of claws digging into his still-healing wound.

Mistakingly thinking that Bullet needed to pee, I put him on the grass on the way to the car. As soon as I put him down, though, he bulleted straight back to the institutional door. He longingly looked in the window while he scratched on the door, seeing a long empty hallway keeping him from his favorite person in the world…

Fast forward to Saturday:

My brother and two of my nephews surprised my mom and me by driving down to help get my dad home. After going to the Chinese buffet per Dad’s request, we met at the house in our separate vehicles. My plan was to go into the house and roll up any carpets that might be a hazard and to help my dad get safely settled in the house before getting Bullet.

As I headed toward the front door, however, my dad, slowly turning himself to get out of my brother’s van, looked at me and said, “Are you going to go get Bullet?”

I said, “Well yes. But I was going to go into the house first and make sure everything was safe.”

“You should go get Bullet…I want to see him…like—now.”

And so I went to get Bullet from his porch. In between barks, he was speaking so loudly that I could hear him in our yard. He was also scratching at the door, wagging his tail excitedly, and jumping up and down in anticipation of his emancipation all at the same time.

And Bullet bulleted over to my dad.

And they talked to one another as if it had been weeks since they were together.

And Bullet kept trying to kiss my dad.

And the two have pretty much been inseparable since.

Sweet story, huh? And it portrays Bullet as a sweet little loving dog, right? A dog you might like to meet?

Here’s the truth: To everyone other than my immediate family, Bullet is a mean little sausage dog that has been portrayed as a grumpy old man. In his protectiveness of my dad and his neuroses of being abandoned and abused as a pup, he comes across as a ferocious fat ball of fur. He will hesitantly let you feed him with one hand while he growls at the other, and he will allow you pet him if either my dad or I am around. But…if you wanted to visit him today, you’d be out of luck. He’d bark at you. Non-stop. Today. Tomorrow. And many days to come. After all, it took him a solid year to learn to trust me.

Sometimes he’s embarrassing. Sometimes we just want him to hush. Sometimes we wish he were a more welcoming dog. And yet…still…we—especially my dad—love him…just as he is.

I suppose that this is how it is with people from time to time. We get hurt. We find ourselves abandoned. We become defensive. We act out of the need to protect. We grumble and act hypocritical. We take a long time to let down our defenses. We act ridiculous. We make too much noise. We pretend to be stronger than we really are. And yet we need to be loved and we find that love is the single greatest change agent in the world.

Thanks, Bullet, for teaching us about love once again…even if you did just pee on my mail.