My Shelter Dogs Are My Heroes

As the silver bells ring, do you yearn for something pure and honest in your life, something that is precisely what it seems to be? I do. I look around and it seems everything I once treasured is tarnished. Charlie Rose, the voice of civilized discourse, is fired for sexual misconduct. Our president makes empty promises to the gullible over and over again, using their trust against them. The people we pay dearly to represent us, don’t always. Even Christmas was scheduled to manipulate the masses. (Should we be setting up nativity scenes in April?) How can a person be dewy-eyed and sentimental in an environment like this?

Okay, as I once told my child when she was frightened by the old Tokyo-munching Godzilla, “It’s just a man in a suit.” All is not as we have said it was. One solution, much touted in some states, is to pretend our golden halo is not damaged at all. Let our children believe we are the only country in the world that never makes mistakes. Ignore slavery and Native American genocide and all the rest. Tell the kiddies we’re somehow superior to the rest of the world. Does that make us better people? Not really. Look at the hate that’s born in some of those locales with the pink-and-blue history books. Pretending does not make it so. Grown-ups have a responsibility to stare straight at the pimples of our nation and start smearing them with Proactiv or whatever. We can’t be perfect, but we can always be better.

I’ll admit I’m sad to be forced to see the burned twisted bones beneath the stories of America I’ve held dear—particularly at this “magical” time of the year. Why aren’t we perfect? Because people aren’t perfect, and we’re people. Duh. I resent a government that keeps shoving my face in the doo-doo by piling on more and more—enough to contaminate my personal life. But maybe it’s high time I stopped looking for super heroes and started building strong foundations along with the others who still believe we can be—not necessarily richer—but better.

And so I get involved in trying to improve the situation. And I adopted another dog from the shelter. Animals have the advantage of being automatically honest. If you’re lucky (and in my house we are), the pets in your life are also loving, loyal, and entertaining. My dogs remind me that life doesn’t have to be dark and deceitful. We could be as guileless and open as they are. And that is my wish as we approach our many holidays:  we will strive to be loving and honest and wisely wary of people tainted with unkind motives. We will be unapologetically joyful because we’re here—some of us near people we cherish; we’re fed, clothed, and sheltered; and we’re alive. (My dog told me to say that.)