Raising Kane

While exchanging holiday pleasantries with a friend of mine on Christmas Eve, he informed me that he recently had his beloved Weimaraner put down after twelve years of faithful companionship.

To know my friend is to know that conveying this news did not come easily to him. He and I have been friends since high school, and I have always known him to keep his emotions close to his vest. He’s part Vulcan I think. We were roommates during my single years – my Felix Unger to his Oscar Madison. And when I met Mrs. Goldwater, he decided to move on to a new phase of his bachelorhood by moving into the Big City with a new wing man – a Weimaraner puppy named Kane.

Hearing my friend relay the final days of his dog’s life, and the agonizing decision on his part to end his friend’s suffering was to see him in an entirely new light. The solitary, skirt chasing cad I knew in my twenties was replaced by an older, wiser man coming to terms with the loss of a friend – but nevertheless looking ahead to the future in the joy and promise that relationships can bring. It’s funny how a dog (or pets in general) can often help to bring out the best in who we are.

Why do we keep doing it – putting ourselves out there like that on the likelihood that heartbreak and sadness may be the ultimate outcome? I guess it’s like what Woody Allen’s character says at the end of Annie Hall – because we need the eggs.

Here’s to Kane – thank you for watching over my friend all of these years. I wish you an eternity of arthritic squirrels, fragrant butts and stationary legs.

Sleep well.