Is The Meaning of Life the Same for Animals as it is Humans?

Sometimes I have to wonder what in the hell my dog thinks about all day?

Cady is an eleven year old female yellow Labrador and I have had her since she was 3 months old, her birthday being June 30th, 2007.  When I "adopted" her as a puppy, I gifted her to my husband Dean.  He was a dog person, someone who had a dog most of his life and loved them like children.  I, on the other hand, had never had one.  I was a horse person, which I consider much easier than a dog because they don't demand my emotional attention as much. But together, Dean and I got through the early years of potty training, jumping on guests and discipline, well, mostly Dean handled that stuff.  I got to be the fun parent.  HE rubbed her belly, teased her and took care of the poop stuff.  I took her running and hiking when he wasn't around, fed her way too many treats and she drove shotgun on errands with me around town.

Since losing my husband, I have struggled with being a single caretaker.  The realization that caring for a dog is much like a child, and not just a small child, but a toddler, overwhelmed me.  I am still cleaning up her poop, feeding her and walking her every day.  There is joy to that in itself, but my problem started when the days came after Tia's death where it was hard for me to even get out of bed.  Grief smacked me in the face and then kicked my while I was down so I came to resent the energy in caring for a another living being. I realized I had been responsible for a sentient animal or person since I was nineteen and I was tired.

She became noticeably depressed right after Dean passed and for awhile, I wondered if I was to lose her too. I knew she must have known something bad went down, but how could she know Dean was never coming back?  But unlike me, she snapped out of it after a few months and all that pent up, focused energy stared at only my face every morning, happy to see me, excited to go...go somewhere...anywhere..right now!  So much excitement, while I was grumpy, being forced out of bed too early, still in my underwear and t-shirt, wearing barn boots to take her outside to pee and feed her breakfast.

The more I became her world, the less I wanted her in mine and I struggled with grief, guilt and shame in waves on the roller coaster of emotions experienced daily.  I love her dearly, but even children grow up and move out.  I just wanted time to wallow...in my pain...grief...sorrow...whatever. 

Finally, after two and a half years of on and off angst, I took her to a dear friends home to stay for good and I cried all the way home.  It lasted one night.  The next morning, she threw out her back and I promptly picked her up and went straight to the emergency vet, on a Sunday...yeah...the expensive day of the week.  I spent the next three days nursing her back to health, even giving her water using a turkey baster to make sure she got enough fluids.  Since then, I have had a reconciliation of my time with her.  I no longer resent all the constant care and attention she needs.  I just stopped fighting it and things got better.

I wonder what she thinks when she sees me crying so much?  Sometimes we have staring contests, but all I see are her liquid brown eyes with query in them...Does she want a treat?  Want to go for a walk? (always) or Does she need to pee?  I don't know....and maybe I think she only thinks of herself, and therein lies the resentment.  Yet, I still wonder, does she ponder the meaning of life?  Or is her mission just in survival.

I believe dogs live in the moment and as long they are in that moment they don't NEED anything, they are happy.   No worries, angst or emotional baggage, just content to be alive.  I wonder how it would feel to live like that for even one hour.