“Abby Thanksgiving, Everyone”

We always do our human perspective. It’s easy to do. Human to human existence is our livelihood . Carved into our existence are the use of words. Words in verbal form, hand-written or typed, or signed for hard of hearing all express our needs, wants, joys, sadness, openness, solitude, and celebrations. Certainly, one can add many more nouns to this list. That’s the beauty of words.

For today, however, the sheer wonder of all words stands, as one in the shadow of two: gratitude and thanks.

“Thanks and Gratitude”. Through the eyes of Abby.

Abby is a dog. Pretty sure my elementary school teachers would be proud of my observation. Her noun classification is only one letter off my name … take the “u” out of DOUG, and “dog” appears – almost like magic! … Now, this isn’t anything too specific regarding Abby. Scooby Doo and I have this in common, too. Just a fun fact.

I see Abby once a week when I visit her family on a “business matter”. She is (understatement immediately forthcoming) really, really excited to see me. Steaming up the glass storm door with anticipatory breath, she can be seen banging her tail rhythmically against the hard ceramic floor. Once I gently open the door, she darts forward past my feet … happily so as if I’m NOT there,… although I am the only one she wants to see. Invisible to her elation, realizing her error, she immediately turns in my direction to enter the house before I have a chance to close the door. All this in ten seconds clicks of a clock. Paws skating across the glossy entryway floor, her gait propels her around corners so quickly I barely have a chance to catch my own breath before seeing her appear, once again in my sight. In a flash, the Abby white tornado whirls from the kitchen in blinding fashion, brakes suddenly at my feet, looks up, … and, well, ….. the ritual begins.

Abby is sweet. Five minutes into my visit, she settles out of the routine: pet the belly, pet the head, scratch the back, look away at a random noise (her, not me), try to jump up but be denied (multiple times), whimper and pout… The routine finishes with her gracing up a few stairs, plumping down on step, and poking her head through a rail with such a face of resignation as shown above.

I don’t believe it is just me on this given day. I think it is anyone, at any time, for any purpose, carrying anything, wearing anything, … you see my point. I’d “like” to believe I am someone special to her. I am not.

Or, am I?

Abby can’t use words. Her ability to speak isn’t in her DNA. I feel special when I see Abby, however. She doesn’t need to use words. I may be special to Abby the moment she sees me in the driveway … she just “feels” it somehow but can’t say it. This is that human-animal, non-verbal connection we should always be thankful for and cherish.

This is gratitude and thanks dogified – non-judgmental and always accepting of our flaws and problems. We can talk our words to them. They will listen and not understand in the way “we” think. Somehow, though, they will show grace and thanks to us not by words. Maybe we can extend this same idea to our human connections?

Today is a day of human perspective. By all means, tell everyone “thanks” for everything deserving their praise because human to human interaction is our existence. Be open to receive thanks as well.

Words aren’t necessary, either. Hug someone you love. Open the door for a stranger. Place a flower on the grave of a loved one. Read a book. Be silent. Pet the belly of an Abby in your life. Steam up a glass door and bang on the door when you see someone pull up in the driveway. Run up to them. Put your arms around them.

Whatever it is, … spoken or unspoken, one word or volumes of syllables, poems or novels, … make it special and full of thanks and gratitude today.

Abby Thanksgiving, Everyone!!