Magic

Magic
From Chicken Soup for the Soul: What I Learned from the Dog
By Carla Andrews-O'Hara

Happiness is a warm puppy.
~Charles M. Schulz

I'm devastated. How can I possibly have breast cancer? I'm only forty-four years old. There's no history of cancer in my family. I exercise, eat healthy, and pride myself on looking younger than my years. Cancer's merciless disregard for my proud arguments is frightening. How did I end up being one of the women diagnosed each year in our country with breast cancer? How am I going to face this — the betrayal of my body and my own mortality? How am I going to face the next five minutes, knowing — and not knowing — what's next?

Add to that this crazy new puppy. What a maniac! I'm not even sure I like him. I hear him running in and out of the doggy door. Ugh. Soon he'll be back in here running in circles. It's what we call "puppy frenzy." He smiles, puts his head down and his bottom up, and positions himself to catapult around the room. I'm lying on the couch in absolute despondency as he circles the room. Suddenly, he jumps on my chest and uses my body to launch himself halfway across the room. Tail high and proud, he lands and looks for praise. All I can say is, "Chaco! For pity sake, settle down!" He's heartbroken that I don't appreciate his antics and goes to his bed. His sigh fills the room as he rolls over and accepts my rejection. (Keep reading)