Must Love Dogs

In the old neighborhood, we met through our kids.  Wonderful people we never would've known, over time, became more than neighbors. They became close friends, celebrating parental highs and personal lows and everything in between, noshing our way through it all.  In the "new" neighborhood, going on 12 years now, we met through our dogs.  Wonderful people we never would've known, had it not been for our animals sniffing each other's tushies, by way of introduction.  I can't pinpoint the exact moment Dusty and Irie first connected, but Candy and I hit it off and that was that.  It's been a mutual admiration society ever since.  Many dog walks together, many brunches and dinners with Candy and Joe and their son Colin.  Many temple services together. Many lively chats about home repair.  We've shared painters and laughter and more than a few tears.  Through Candy, I met Gina and Mary Therese, their hubbies and children.  The news that Irie had passed on the same day of Colin's bar mitzvah hit the neighborhood before Candy, Joe and Colin had even arrived home.  Gina made the discovery, while bringing leftover food from the kiddish lunch.  She sat with Irie till the family got home from the teen party in Thousand Oaks.  Mary Therese called me.  On Sunday morning, I talked to Candy and we cried together.  Oh, the agony.  Oh, the ecstasy.   A dog dies.  A son shines on the bima.  All on the same day.  You can try to make some sense of it, but in the end, some things will never add up, because, let's face it:  Life is life.