One of my luthiere friends just had one of his dogs pass away. It had been with them many years (91 in dog years) and as a truly loved pet it was so much a part of their family. It reminded me of this little letter I like to dig up every Christmas, like a dog digs up a favourite bone to savour then hide again.

If you love your pet, you will love this letter! It brings tears to my eyes every time I read it.

 

A Fair Exchange of Gifts by James Murray (a story about his 17 year old dog Duffy)

 

As Christmas rapidly approaches, I have been wondering what to give a mangyold dog who has fleas, arthritis, cataracts, and selective hearing. Whogrowls at shadows, and sleeps more and more with each passing day.A dog who is entering her seventeenth year, still under the illusion thatshe is a pup. A dog who has mastered art of mooching, and, shamelessly playspeople with all the skill and expertise of a trained concert violinist.What do you give such a dog?If I could, I would give her legs less weary so she could once again runlike the wind through fields of grass. I would give her a thousand years ofautumn leaves, and a whole forest filled with squirrels to bark at.I would take away the cloudiness in her eyes. I would chase away the shadowsthat haunt her sleep. And I would take back every harsh word I have everspoken to her. I would return to her each and every moment in which shefound so many simple pleasures. If I could, I would make an old dog young.But I cannot.However, what I could do is give a canoe trip. I would make sure to do it ona warm, lazy summer's afternoon. I would wrap it in the soft sounds of waterlapping against the hull. And, I would place a dragonfly on the gunnels, justup from where she rests her head, so they could try to out stare each other.We could camp at night and I would build a warm fire when the evening turnscold. Of course I would let her into the tent to sleep at night. And, Iwould hope for the cry of loons that might stir primordial instincts in herdreams.Or, I suppose I could take her for a walk along the lake.I could throw a piece of driftwood and make sure she did not have to go intothe water too often to fetch it. She doesn’t like the water. We could walkfor hours, and then, I could let her lead the way back when she was ready. Iwould let her rest as often a she wanted.Perhaps I could give her a scratch from one end to the other, making sure toget all the hard to reach spots like behind her ears and on the back by thetail. I would even brush her out afterwards so she could walk around likeroyalty for the rest of the day. I know I could always buy her an extra large sizedbag of marrow bone treats. She would certainly make a valiant effort at trying to eatthem all in the same day. Then again, I could also fill the gas tank and take her for a nice long ridealong some road, full of twists and turns, that we have never driven before.She could look out the window and make as many nose prints as her littleheart desires. On the way back home she could rest her head on my lap anddrop off to sleep. I could pet her head and reassure her if she whimpers. Iwould make sure not to disturb her as she runs like the wind through fieldsof grass. She is deserving of each and every one of these gifts this Christmas.All I would ever ask for in return, is a little more time with her.