“Home is where the dog is.”
It was written in beautiful script on the wall in the vet’s office. To be more inclusive, let’s say, “Home is where the animal member of our family lives.” It could be one’s dog, cat, bird, snake, horse, hamster. We’d then say that “Home is where the DCBSHH+ lives.”
Tonight, as Ray and I waited for the microwave to heat the second meal of my chicken pot pie, we began to slow dance in our small kitchen.
“You’re not moving,” Ray said to me.
“I’m afraid of tipping over and taking you with me,” I replied.
Before we knew it, there were three of us with our hands or paws on each other’s shoulders. Sebastian was on his back legs, stretched as tall as we were, moving with us, and giving lots of kisses. It was one of those special moments that you look at from above and realize how memorable it will always be.
We have a couple of good friends in hospice care because of the spread of cancer. They’re not thinking of politics at this time, but of the most meaningful memories of their lives with their families and close friends.
Many of my happiest life memories involve our dogs. Perhaps it’s because I’ve given them my undivided attention, and I know how much each of them loved me and Ray. All of us who love, or have loved, a member of the Rainbow Bridge Community can relate to the memorable moments.
Besides, having been and now being loved by a DCBSHH+, what else makes a house a home? And what are the components of our memorable moments?
For me, home is where the Spirit resides. Next, it’s where Ray is. The house is an empty space without the love, mutual respect, desire to please and protect, and the laughter of Ray’s and my sacred marriage. I like having flowers wherever my eyes land, good food on the stove or in the oven, an engaging series on Netflix, and a beautiful Zen garden. But none of it means anything without Ray to enjoy it with me.
Memorable moments happen when I’m fully aware. They can be everyday experiences or exciting, deeply moving new ones. Love is a requirement. If love isn’t present, nor happiness, it won’t be a memorable moment for me. Surgeries won’t be memorable for me, but seeing the unexpected faces of people who hold my hand in the hospital will be. Meeting famous people isn’t a memorable moment for me, but having a life-changing conversation with a stranger on the airplane is.
These are two good questions to discern our needs and values. What do we need in our house to ensure that it feels like home? And what are the necessary components for a moment to be memorable?
Brian McNaught has authored 15 books, among them “On Being Gay and Gray,” and his new memoir, “A Prince of a Boy.”
