Reuben

I wrote this letter to friends shortly after having to have Reuben put to sleep.

Lancaster, TX
January 7, 1999


Those of you receiving this note hold a special place in my heart, and so it is with sadness that I must tell you that my friend of over 15 years has passed away. You all have heard stories of Reuben, and some of you have met him. A few of you knew him well, as you looked after him on the few weeks each summer Lia and I would travel to New York. Some of you would ask about him each time we met, and that was a joy to me as it meant you remembered something special about me - my wonderful animals. And some of you offered advice and support as I struggled with the realization that I must put him to sleep. Your kindness and thoughtfulness will not be forgotten. It is, in large part, because of these special souls that we have become friends... because we have all realized our capacity to love and be loved by them and, more importantly, our unique ability to appreciate the gift of the enduring bond that can form between animals and humans. Sadly, most people do not possess this ability, do not realize this gift. I can only feel sorry for them, as these creatures have much to teach us - about play, about love, about responsibility, about death and about ourselves.

As have all my dogs, Reuben taught me much. He taught me that the best place to sleep during the hot summer's heat was the bathtub. He taught me that floating in a kiddie pool was a great way to spend an afternoon. He taught me that rolling in new-mown grass, in dry Texas clay, in warm sand was more than a fun past-time it was a form of artistic expression. He taught me tag and keep-away and hide and seek. He taught me how to jump fences and hide in neighbors' cars. He taught me how to sing with the pack. He taught me how to be satisfied with only a third of the bed. He taught me, simply, how to be happy.

As we grew older, he taught me more important things. He taught me patience and kindness. He taught me not to ever plan to sleep through the night. He taught me that worry and anxiety and two A.M. trips to the emergency vet were just part of the deal. He taught me the meaning of a kind word and touch. He taught me to slow down and pay attention to the small things, the important things, the things we too often take for granted. He taught me to look deeply and listen quietly.

In the end, Reuben taught me about responsibility. He taught me that love alone cannot make things better, hard as we may try. He taught me many things about myself, things I needed to know. Animals have a great capacity for teaching us about ourselves, teaching us about the kind of people we really are, not the kind we wish we were or imagine ourselves to be. How we respond to them, how we treat them, how we care for them and love them, and finally how we let them go - this teaches us more than all the science and philosophy and religion man will ever write.

On December 29th, at 4:50 P.M., Reuben was put quietly to sleep, at home, in his own bed. I held him and covered his beautiful head with tears one last time. He was a magnificent friend, a true friend, and I miss him. His ashes sit in a little box aside Ludi's and Sturmie's and Stutzie's, all waiting one day to be mixed with mine, to be scattered in special places.

Look deeply. Listen quietly. It's something I've learned from a wonderful friend.