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A couple of weeks ago, I had a creeping worry that I couldn’t quite place. I don’t typically have anxiety, but something was really bothering me.
I tried to pinpoint it. I ruled out anything to do with health, family, or work. I wasn’t under a pressing work deadline, and my to-do list was manageable (shout-out to Kate DePetro for the assistance!).
I wondered if it was just that seasonal back-to-school feeling — what I’d wear on the first day, if I could open my locker without embarrassing myself, and if Tracy and I would be in chemistry class together. But it wasn’t that either.
Perhaps it was that some of the leaves on the trees in Central Park were already turning yellow, giving up after a hot summer? Nope — I’m ready for less humidity, cooler temperatures, and football (ha ha, not really).
Finally, I realized what I was concerned about — Percy. Oh, he’s fine. He’s “fit as a butcher’s dog,” as my husband Peter says.
But it’s just that … I’d recently noticed some white hairs on Percy’s chin, and I was starting to panic that he was going to be five years old. And, as all dog owners tend to do, I started counting the years.
Peter and I talk about Percy all the time. He brings us closer together, keeps the mood lighter at home, and makes us live more in the present.
“If he’s five, then we only have, at most, nine more years, and by then I’ll be (not saying), and I don’t get to see him enough during the week and I’m missing his life,” and on and on.
“Peter, did you see these white hairs under his chin?” I asked.
“Yes, but remember, Vizslas go gray early. He’s only going to be four next month.”
“Wait. He’s only going to be four? Are you sure?”
Peter did some quick math. “Yes, he was born in 2021. We picked him up that November.”
Relief flooded over me. I felt like I’d won a year’s worth of time with him. “Thank God,” I said.
And Peter didn’t think I was crazy (about that).
Four years ago, Jasper — “America’s Dog” — passed away after a quick battle with cancer. It was tragic, and I think about him, and our previous Vizsla, Henry, every single day.
The heartache eases, but I can still immediately be brought to tears when I think of them.
Percy is a worthy successor. He’s different from them. He is faster, goofier, and, dare I say, even prettier.
He loves to chase balls and has taught himself to put three to four in his mouth at once.
He takes a stuffed bear to bed every night — the one Fox News contributor Katie Pavlich gave him when he joined our family.
He loves the beach but only to run on it — he won’t swim like the ones before him. He hates to be out of his depth.
It used to bother me, but then I decided it’s safer if he stays on shore. In my sight. I can’t stop looking at him.
Like the 68 million households in America with dogs, I delight in having a dog in my home.
Peter and I talk about Percy all the time. He brings us closer together, keeps the mood lighter at home, and makes us live more in the present.
Which is one of the best things about National Dog Day — a reminder of how special these pets are to us and how we must live in the present with them. They’re not worried about tomorrow. Or about a few gray hairs. They’re fully in the moment — where we should be.
Long may all the dogs live — here with us and in our hearts and memories.
Here’s to the dogs!
The post DANA PERINO: Our dogs remind us of life’s sweetest truth appeared first on Fox News.
