Can anything love you like a dog?

Korrin B.

March 26, 2011 - 3:00 PM

I'm not really a dog person, I swear. I just happen to be in love with one and she with me. In addition, this relationship has led me to a place of great understanding and respect for the dog to person bond. Therefore, when I see a dog, I do not so much swoon for the animal, but for its meaningful place in this often chaotic dance of life. To someone, that dog must mean what Scooby means to me.

I just concluded my last spring break as an undergraduate. Oh, how I will miss these sweet scheduled blocks of vacation time. It felt nice to leave Eugene for a bit and head home to California. Upon arrival, I was joyfully met by one of my favorite parts about coming home - Scooby.

As usual, one of my first "to do's" when home was to take a trip to the beach with my dog. I checked the weather forecast and decided to go for it, as the following few hours seemed like the only time throughout the week that had no expected showers. I took an old pink sheet from my twin-sized bed in the dorms freshman year and tucked it around the backseat of my car. All the while, Scooby sat patiently beside the open door. When finished, I stood and looked down at her as my mind raced with all the stresses of school and the future and she just wagged her tail. I gave a pat to the seat of the car and she immediately hopped right in.

It was one of those gray sky days where you feel it might just be best to hide out from the world for a while. No one wants to hang out with an angsty college senior. Well, except Scooby that is. I was having a hard time smiling on this particular day and just couldn't seem to get my cheer going. That all changed, of course.

Give me the Pacific Ocean and a faithful hound any day and I will be at peace. The moment I got out of my car and felt the brisk, salty ocean air hit my face and fill my lungs, I just felt differently. Scooby did her usual burst of barky excitement as she leapt from my car. She quickly quieted and proceeded to begin smelling the world as we both trekked toward the ocean.

This particular beach we were at has a long expanse of sand before you reach the water. I think it adds a sense of epic adventure to the usual beach trip. You must keep walking through the sands and winds until you can reach the ultimate healing touch of the Pacific Ocean waves. The tireless journey makes the moment of touching the water all the more cherished. I might just also have a rather active imagination.

Anyway, Scooby and I journeyed across the sand. Occasionally we'd jog; often we'd twirl in circles and skip through the wind. All the while, Scooby stuck by my side. We were just two friends, doing what we always do. When Scooby and I began this ritual years ago, she used to run so fast I couldn't keep up. She'd always stop and let me catch up though. As the years have passed, Scooby's sprints have become more like power walks. The college years have brought quite a bit of change to Scooby's and my life.

Once Scooby and I finished our trot through the sand, Scooby took her place at the edge of water. Never a fan of getting wet, Scooby chooses to sit on the last dry part of the sand while I run towards the sea with fervent passion. The first wave to hit my bare feet made me temporarily lose my breath. The Pacific Ocean may be beautiful, but it sure is cold. I kept walking until the water came up to the tops of my knees and then I just stood there with my arms out, listening to the ocean and breathing in its healing magic. I can't think of a place in the world I love more than where the ocean meets the land. My prior inability to smile was replaced with an inability to not smile.

I glanced back and Scooby was still in her spot. Her head was lifted into the air and her nose twitched back and forth and she picked up the smells of the ocean breeze. We hung out for a while before our slow stroll back to the car. By this point, Scooby's aging bones looked at the short jump into the backseat as more of a Mt. Everest and so I picked up my forty-pound friend and set her back on the pink sheet.

I'm not really a dog person, I swear. It's just that I couldn't imagine my life and my trips back home without a certain one in it.