I finally finished The Art of Racing in the Rain by Garth Stein. I had to take it in chunks because I cried every time I opened the book. I also could only read during the day or I would have cried myself to sleep and woken up all puffy. I cry easily anyway, but being pregnant has made it worse. There are so many movies I haven't seen since I know I'm going to cry. Throw dogs into the mix and I'm done for.
We're reading it for book group... I think that's the only reason I was able to pick it up. They allowed me veto power since they had vetoed The Lovely Bones a couple of years ago, but I said I'd try. My husband read it awhile back and said it was great. Turns out it is every bit as good as he said and then some.
I had no idea it was so profound. It's more than the story of a dog. It's about life and death and family and change and dog and man, but with driving tips thrown in for good measure. Words of such wisdom come from that sweet dog's mouth that you want to copy it all down and use it like a daily affirmation. Makes you want to be better. Makes you understand the circle of life... at least for a dog if not for all of us. But I do think it's for all of us.
I've said that I don't trust people that don't have pets (to myself anyway for fear of offending my friends that are sans four-legged (or feathered or scaled) friends). The relationship in this book further underscores that I don't understand how people don't have an animal in their lives. And I guess I specifically mean dogs as I am a dog person, but any pet would do. I've been blessed with now three wonderful dogs and a clowder of cats over the years (I even tried fish in high school; that didn't end well). I loved each and every unique one of them.
One thing the book makes you face is the death of a pet, but you probably could have figured that out. Out of all of mine, I was only around for three of them. I was the one who came home to find my husband's cat, Strat, 17, unable move and had to tell him they couldn't save him. We put our poodle, Polly, to sleep at home when she was 15. Then our cat Nancy ran off to die alone, as cats are wont to do, when she was 17. I really thought about Polly a lot while I was reading because you hear from a dog what it's like to get old (or at least what we imagine it is like) and we watched her get so teetery. This of course led me to think about the future and our current dog, Georgia, and what we will face with her. It's an ending we all know is inevitable and I can cry just thinking about it and she's only two and half.
So it was with all this in my mind that I finished the book today. Sobbing, wracked with convulsions, snotty and moaning about life and death and family and change and dog and man. Remembering how Polly used to climb on me and lick the tears from my face when I would cry. I still miss her so much. And it was at that instant that Georgia came in, jumped up and licked my face as I was crying - something she never does. I was overcome by how cosmic it was that she would do that, right at that moment and I looked deep into her eyes and tried to tell her how much I love her.
Then I noticed she had rolled in poop and was getting it all over me.
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