By Joyce Keller Cohen
Every time Allen has become seriously ill, I get a dog. The last time, I adopted a crazy chihuahua basenji mix. Why anyone would mix an African hunting dog with a high- strung bug-eyed chihuahua is anyone’s guess, but that is what happened. Gigi Cohen has turned out to be a lunatic, but I love her to death.
Now that Allen has become end-of-life sick, my anxiety level has been off the charts. I guess that is why I now adopted two dogs. My anxiety is still there, but now I can’t stop laughing. These two, tiny terrors, are a hoot. One is a four-pound full grown chihuahua, who looks like an alien dog born too soon, and her sister, coming in at six pounds, is not much better. They squeak, they scoot around my big and lonely house, they breathe their stinky little breath in my face, and they make me laugh so hard at their ridiculous antics that I pray I don’t have to run for the adult diapers.
I look to these two goofballs for inspiration regarding how to make the most of each day. They made it out of a back yard breeder’s home that burned down, and took several of their tiny siblings in the fire. They lived outdoors and were fed goldfish crackers out of the front seat of a car. They were starving and emaciated. Yet, they are not broken. They love their life, their humans, and their food. They treat each day as if it was their best-ever.
I am so grateful for their presence, as they are a gift from above. To me, dogs are God’s way of bringing angels down to earth. These two are certainly not angels, but they make me laugh. Laughter is one of my greatest joys and that is what these two bring. They bring more than joy, however. They bring hope that there is a joyous future to come.
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