My Liver Cancer Blog

Having cancer has meant that I spend more time at home than I usually do, and so I’ve overheard conversations between Jacky and Gordy that I normally wouldn’t. The topics of some of their conversations have really taken me by surprise. They have been more philosophical than I expected – very rooted in their own personal experiences, but nevertheless quite serious and even metaphysical. For example, I recently overheard Gordy broach a conversation with Jacky about love.

“Jacky,” Gordy asked, “what do you think love is?” “Love is food,” replied Jacky. “There can be food without love, but there can be no love without food.” I should perhaps interject here to say that Jacky and Gordy are dogs. They are both English Setter rescues from the Midwest in the USA. Although they are the same breed, they are quite different in temperament. Jacky is cautious by nature and trusts his humans. If his humans take a tone that suggests something is dangerous, he stops in his tracks. He loves going to the dog park but is at heart a couch potato. He is proud that he went to school and learned to sit, stay, come, and shake paws. Dinner is his favorite moment every single day.

Gordy, in contrast, has a complicated relationship with food and doesn’t really see the point of obedience. He occasionally says “fuck off” when told to go lie down. He is quite smart, but what he knows of obedience he learned from Jacky because his humans decided he was too anxious for school. He thinks the “shake paw” command is especially stupid, and so he transformed it to mean “I want.” Rather than waiting to be asked to shake hands and then rewarded for lifting his paw, he began lifting his paw when he wanted something – water, a treat, attention. And then he convinced Jacky that this was what a lifted paw really meant, and then we had a period of chaos in our household with the dogs making many, many requests. I will admit that when we first got Gordy I had a sneaking suspicion that he was actually a human being who had been magically transformed into a dog. (I never told my husband that this is what I believed in my heart because I was a little embarrassed. And also a little afraid I might be right. I wanted to be able to act surprised if he was transformed back.) Gordy was depressed when he first arrived, and had panic attacks (this was the vet’s diagnosis), and he and I had many intense moments of snuggling on the bed, my face buried in his neck near his ear, warbling and humming and whimpering and groaning to each other.

Which brings us back to their conversation about love. “Well, yes, food,” said Gordy. “I agree. That’s important. Sometimes I think maybe peanuts are love. Or cheese puffs. Or pasta with mussels and clams.” “Well, I’m glad that’s settled.” “But then I’m not sure…. I have these feelings.” “What do you mean?” “I don’t know. But, when the female human lies beside me and croons and purrs into my ear, I feel energy roiling and rippling through my body, and I find myself whimpering, and I just want to burrow into her body and live there forever. I never want it to stop, but then I can’t take it because it’s just too much.” “I don’t even know what that means.” “And when the male human rubs his beard against my face, and it’s like he has fur, and I feel myself falling into this scary cave of sensations that are so delicious, almost better than food, but also kind of dreadful.” “Hmm.” “Those are feelings. And I think they might be love.” “I’m pretty sure love is steak.” “Ok, but steak and also feelings.”