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By Root 501 0

him if he needed to go out, and since he did not want to sleep next to me, I realized he did. I threw back the covers and followed him. Expecting that he would head to the back door, when we arrived on the first floor I turned left from the stairs and started in that direction. But instead of heading to the kitchen and access to the yard, Oogy went into the room to the right of the stairway where Dan was sleeping and climbed onto the couch. He sat there, waiting for me, looking directly at me. He wanted me to sit next to him. So I wormed my way onto the sofa, lifted up Dan’s feet, marveling at the thick blond hair curling over his legs, and slid underneath them, putting them on my lap. I was able to pull a part of the comforter over me. Dan never stirred. Oogy curled up between us and put his head on my lap, and as I rubbed his back and luxuriated in his warmth, he turned his head to look at me with utter adoration in his eyes, the ragged line that delineates where his face was sewn together defined in shadow by the light from the windows. We slept that way for another two hours.

Later that afternoon, when I started packing, Oogy came into the room and lay on the bed the entire time. Only when I had closed the suitcase, stood up, picked up the bag, and started downstairs did he jump off the bed and trail after me, following me from room to room until it was time for me to leave for the airport. Clearly, he somehow understood that I was going away and wanted to be around me as much as he could before then.

I am not, of course, the only person Oogy communicates with. Although neither Jennifer nor the boys have developed the same degree of intimacy with him given the demands of their daily routines, messages do pass back and forth between them. And his being, his visage, and his loving temperament, despite the destruction so obviously visited upon him, draw in person after person we meet outside the house. Because Oogy is much more than a unique personality and a loving pet. Who he is and what he has endured speaks to people.

A woman I know who is a columnist and author, and has been involved in animal rescue for decades on the West Coast, recently said to me, “Stories about fighting dogs that have happy endings are rare. Stories about fighting dogs that are inspirational are nonexistent.”

I have often wondered what exactly it is about Oogy that resonates with people. To a certain extent, each person has his or her own connection with him. Some appreciate Oogy’s demeanor; the word sweet has been used to describe him more than any other. When they have learned what he has gone through and have seen how he is in spite of it, people are simply moved by his resiliency, his placid dignity. In some people, I think, a certain degree of transference is inevitable as they come to see in Oogy the survivor they perceive themselves to be, an indomitable spirit in the face of adversity. Others, not necessarily physically damaged but emotionally scarred, who yet hope still to be loved, find another kind of encouragement: If this dog can go through the hell he did and emerge capable of giving and generating as much love as he does, so can they. His triumph over the most unspeakable brutality without any emotional ill effects whatsoever encourages many. And, I think, some people just appreciate the second chance Oogy has had, just as they hope they will get theirs if and when they need one.

But there is an element common to everyone who connects with him, and it took me a very long time to arrive at what that is. For most of us, life represents a balancing act among a series of highs and lows, the struggle to maintain equanimity in the face of so many polarities of experience. But no matter where we reside on this spectrum, all of us know that we will, eventually and without fail, have to deal with tragedy. People we care about disappear from our lives. Animals we love have to be “put to sleep.” (How’s that for a euphemism to help us deal with the loss?) Loved ones die and drift apart; illness eats up family members and friends in awful