I’ve been home for the past 2 weeks recuperating from surgery to repair a broken left wrist after a biking accident. My dog, Rachel has been taking good care of me as I alternate between sleeping and reading. She’s a long-haired miniature dachshund who just turned 14.
It is usually a long day for her when I am at work, so having me at home all day is a pleasant treat. We make every 2 hour trips to the kitchen for food, or to the backyard for a short romp.
Typically she barks at me, not the back door, when she wants to go out, but one day last week was different. I was upstairs napping when she started her barking, but we had just made a trip to the backyard. I said, “Rachel, show me what you want.” She dutifully led me downstairs and towards my master bedroom. She looked back to make sure I was still following, and then led me into the closet where she stashes her toys.
One toy, a duck purchased from the Orvis store in Chicago in 2007 is her favorite. It’s threadbare, but she still adores playing with it. On this day, she picked it up in her mouth, tossed it into the air, and then caught it mid-air.
She laid it at my feet as if to say, “Do you think you would feel better if you played with my favorite toy?”
It is why I love dogs, and particularly, my Rachel. If only I could exhibit the same grace in sharing my greatest possessions with others.