At the start of 2021 I wrote a column about my grandmother’s dog, Toby, and his New Year’s Day misadventure, resulting in an overnight at the county animal shelter. Toby, at that time aged 14, had run off during a family birthday party and, at the time, I marveled at his escape. Toby wasn’t known to roam or go on long walks. But a dog who spent most of his life on an island in Michigan’s Upper Peninsula, Toby preferred boat rides over leashes.
I’m sad to write that Toby didn’t make it to enjoy this summer’s wind and waves from the bow of an old Boston Whaler. My grandmother’s steadfast companion of nearly 16 years died a few weeks ago and I, in support of my grandmother and of four-legged friends that give so much, felt it was my duty and obligation to be with him at the vet’s office when he took his last breath.
There is a crushing amount of rhetoric, most of it odious, about rights. Personal rights. What is mine. What is owed to me. What I can do. What you can’t tell me to do. There’s a culture that proclaims the sanctity of life, and when I follow that trail I want those quips to extend beyond personal rights and dwell upon obligations and responsibility. Personal rights is code for hyper-individualism, a cult that leaves nothing but destruction in its wake.
To honor the sanctity of life, we are also obligated to it. To me it means being fully present for the end of life. This is not a take on valuing a pet’s life over a human’s – rather a meditation, an opportunity to consider values of life and the challenge that cultural taboos bring to end-of-life care. It’s also about the gift to be a part of a relationship with another living being, and to be able to provide for someone when a difficult decision about a pet needs to be made.
Many of us, tragically, aren’t afforded the opportunity to say goodbye when a loved one, whether they walk on two legs or four, die. The epidemic of gun-violence in our country is robbing families and communities of this final, sacred act. Instead of obligation and responsibility we’re terrorized by a loose, profit-driven interpretation of constitutional rights. The sanctity of life falls short when common sense gun safety laws are forfeited.
So, here I am trying to link gun violence with the death of my grandmother’s dog? Yes, I am. Partly because I’m at such a loss, and also want to make myself present for when life is beautiful and when it is so hard you forget to breathe. The gift, and thereby, the debt of life is the interwoven bonds that we share: between families, our community, and the other species that we take comfort from. It’s all a part of our ecosystem and in our cherishing of these relationships, is also the expectation that we see them through, to the best of our ability, a full, happy, and free life. This happens at the beginning, and, if we can, at the end.
That’s the gift. That’s the debt. Also, for being human, that’s the honor.
Maggie Doherty is the owner of Kalispell Brewing Company on Main Street.