Love

I am writing this on the eve of that strange invention known as Valentine’s Day. I prefer February 13th since it marks the day a Miniature Schnauzer called Idgie came into the world in 1992 and taught me about love. I was present when she emerged, a miniature miniature and half the size of her litter mates; I knew immediately that I was hers.

Idgie had to be bottle fed - my closest brush with being a mother- and the vet more-or-less wrote her off. Idgie grew into a perfect runt and lived fifteen plus years. I was present at her death.

What is love?

The year before Idgie left, I wrote this in my diary: “Today I caught you just as you lost footing on the basement stairs. You were in danger of hurtling your eleven pound body down the rubber-laid steps to hard floor. I caught you effortlessly, as if my role in life were to glide in your wake and swoop you out of danger. I held your precious body to my heart and carried you, my boney burden, out to the warm grass, honoured to have forestalled your bumpy passage. You are curled up now - silver on green - each rise of your ribcage a blessing.”