Enjoy the Time You Have

Some people become so attached to their pets that they become like family members. I must confess: I’m one of those people. 

To those who think it silly to give so much attention to an animal, I remind them of Proverbs 12:10: “The righteous care for the needs of their animals,” though I readily admit that Lori’s and my attention to the needs of our Schnauzer, Max, likely exceed what the biblical writer of that proverb had in mind with the word, “care.” The fact is, we dote on Max.

Max is 14 years old, pushing the limit for a Schnauzer’s life expectancy. His brother, Baylor, died a couple of years ago, and Lori and I, including Max, grieved Baylor’s passing. Lori cradled Max in her arms while I prayed over Baylor’s ashes as we committed his remains to our family’s pet cemetery in our backyard. Skittles and Casey, our previous Schnauzers, were already buried there. 

We used to keep Max and Baylor in a dog crate at night, but Max never liked that as much as Baylor. The day Baylor died, Max seemed lonely, so we let him sleep with us. That one night turned into two years. Max waltzes into the bedroom every night and peers up at the bed, waiting for someone to lift him onto it so he can claim his spot as if he bought the furniture himself. 

Max’s cataracts have affected his vision, so I carry him outside and stand with him. He walks around in circles, seemingly confused, like he’s picking a piece of real estate for a house before finally finding his spot, much to my relief. Then we give him a treat. I’m convinced he sometimes goes outside just so he can come back in for a treat. It works: go outside, come in, get a treat. He’s got us trained. 

The poor guy has lost some teeth, so we chop his food into bite-sized portions, and he still makes a mess of it, dropping the food on the floor and scattering it. 

Lori is Max’s pharmacist. She disguises his meds for his heart, joints, and anxiety in peanut-flavored pill pockets. 

Taylor, Max’s groomer, stated the obvious to me last week, but it still caused me to pause. Taylor is tender and gentle with Max, but he still gets nervous. So I wasn’t surprised when I picked Max up, and Taylor said, “It’s been another hard day for Max; he shakes uncontrollably.”

“Anything you would suggest we should do for him?” I asked Taylor as I walked out the door.

Acknowledging Max’s aging condition, Taylor lowered her head, “Enjoy him while you can.”

“Enjoy him while you can,” I thought. 

As people age, we recognize their time on this earth is limited to a few years, then months, and finally weeks and days. And if we ponder the truth, we admit that life is limited for all of us, regardless of age. Our entire life, from beginning to end, hovers over a thin vapor separating us from death. 

Life’s uncertainty should serve as a wakeup call for us to seize each day, making the most of every moment, looking deeply into the eyes of each person, appreciating their unique gifts, standing in wonder at God’s creation—the birds singing, the wind rustling, the sun shining— breathing in and out the breath of life, embracing life for all it is, sitting in the silence long enough to open our spiritual ears to God’s whisperings deep within our soul. 

“C’mon, old boy,” I say to Max as I open the car door on his side, “I’ll carry you in. You can stop shaking now. We’re home. Let’s enjoy the time we have.”