Riley

His head quickly shifted upward, his moist nose quivered as he inhaled deeply the breeze that was before him - and immediately discovered a scent. Riley’s eyes scanned for any movements. In an instant his nose dipped low to the ground as he trotted to his left. His liver-colored ears would occasionally perk up, but his muzzle never did. Like all field dogs, his lowered eyes kept track both of what was in front of him and what might be down in the distance, tracking smells of whatever creatures scurried through the faded amber prairie grass.

Later, he soaked in the warmth of our living room fireplace and began work on a 12-inch bone we had bought earlier at the butcher’s shop. Like the earlier moments in the field, he was fully consumed with the task at hand – a bone – and did so for the next hour. I watched the impressive dexterity of his front paws as he savagely eviscerated it, stripping and eating all the meat and then breaking it into pieces like shards of glass. Now and then he would look up at me panting - or better yet, smiling.

As we continue in this pandemic, I’m fairly certain that I’ve bonded more with Riley than I have in the last 5 years. Long walks together, conversations, albeit one-sided, after endless Zoom calls where he seemed to understand my circumstances. Someone who sat patiently by the door for my return from running errands.

For me, it felt good to be wanted.

Like most, I’ve read the acute spikes in depression, anxiety, alcoholism, and loneliness in these past 15 months. COVID, and the growing number of variants, have been a dark and menacing shroud covering us with seemingly little hope for any ray of light or any sliver of normalcy.

If there had been ever a time for the companionship of a dog or cat or any animal – it’s been this past year or so. They have filled that deep, lonely void in us that was previously filled by Friday night dinners with friends, workouts at LifeTime, or weekend movies. Giving them scraps from our plates, caressing them behind their ears, playing fetch injects a desperate necessity of purpose in our day.

We needed our pets – and they needed us.

I found myself in this singular time, thinking of my grandparents. They somehow endured both the devastating Great Depression and unrelenting Dust Bowl with no silver lining anytime soon. I considered my grandpa who was pulled out of the University of Minnesota Ag School to save the family farm in southwestern Minnesota – and then being leveled by the Depression. For he and his family there were no hopeful news for not only months but years. They endured such unmitigated circumstances.

Yet, they pushed on.

For years.

How’d they get through it? I distinctly remember numerous dogs and cats on their farm when I spent endless summers there. Always a Collie or Labrador. Maybe, like for me, the presence their dogs helped a bit. I certainly know he and my grandma were able to get through it through other things, but I wonder just how much their pets contributed.

I bet a lot.

Research tells us pets cause us to have lower stress and blood pressure, experience less illnesses, possess much higher levels of optimism, and are less depressed. Sounds like the perfect antidote to where we find ourselves today as it appears this virus and its variants will not go gentle in the good night.

Riley will turn 15 this fall, and is in great shape for a geriatric, centenarian. However I’m not sure how much longer we’ll have with him. This might be his last Christmas and New Year’s with us - or he may have three or four more in him.

Regardless - he's been an absolute gift.

Actually...he’s been a miracle.