The journey hasn't always been smooth or easy. We've lost countless lunch boxes and groceries to his well-executed raids. He has a maddening need to chew through the garbage when he thinks no one is looking, and his bark can easily wake the neighbours two blocks down.
We'll leave the bottom line cost to another day, but suffice to say a diabetic dog comes with his own set of challenges.
And yet: Two words I often find myself repeating quietly to myself. Because if I had to go back in time seven years to that moment where we decided we couldn't in good conscience leave him behind, I know we'd make the exact same decision.
He is, simply, a good soul. He fits our already-crazy little family in ways I can't even begin to describe. He doesn't just tolerate the over-the-top attention he gets from our kids; he almost begs for it. He seems to know, innately, when one of us needs a little more TLC, and there he is, hovering over us like a guardian angel, squishing his little form that much closer to let us know he isn't going anywhere. He'll nudge us with his nose if we aren't giving him enough time or energy. He communicates in ways that seemingly transcend the fact that he doesn't speak English and we don't speak dog.
I realize this all makes me seem like the crazy dog guy. So be it. All I know is he added something, something, to our family the day we got him. He's somehow changed us, helped our kids grow into the empathetic, giving people they were destined to be, taught us all a thing or two about doing for others, skipping a beat and digging a little deeper to find kindness. I don't know how many more years we'll get with him, but the seven we've already gotten have been a pretty sweet gift for us. And I'm guessing for him, as well.
For more on Frasier's adventures with us, here's a link to all dog-related posts here on Written Inc.: Act of Dog