This week Hope met some friends from college for dinner. We share the bond of memories, history, and common experience. One friend is a bff who was in town for a few days , another a friend, the third a friendly acquaintance. College was a long time ago, so there’s a lot of history and a lot of changes.
Bonding over history
Despite the fact we haven’t seen each other in nine years (!), the bond was instantly back and conversation was easy, interesting, involved a lot of laughing, a little reminiscing, and no politics whatsoever. One of us is not on the same end of that spectrum as the others. Since we’re all grown up, we chose to cherish friendship over whatever disagreements we may have.
We wound up closing the place down – talking for hours. Since all we drank was water, it was a fun evening fueled by personality alone.
And dogs
Looking at the evening from a next-day perspective, one really interesting factor stands out. Three of us were dog people. The fourth, Hope’s college bff, has never had a dog, isn’t interested in dogs, and “wouldn’t let an animal dictate my schedule.”
She very politely tolerated the rest of us – because half the evening was spent talking dogs.
The commonality creates an instant connection. The woman Hope barely knew in college is the one she wound up sharing pictures, videos, and swapping dog stories with. The fourth woman, whose last dog passed away about four years ago, was telling dog stories with us – recalling with much love and many laughs our dogs’ individual personalities, quirks, brilliance, and naughtiness.
Understanding the connection
All three of the others are teachers. We didn’t talk about school much. We talked about dogs. That instant bond of shared experience clicked in. We’ve talked before about how dogs create community. This is just another example.
Hope is the only one who does “stuff” with her dog. And the others weren’t really interested in that stuff. Their dogs, past, and current, are integral parts of their lives and the source of great joy, amusement, companionship, and, ultimately, sorrow.
Dog people get it
Of course Hope asked the woman who lost her dog a while back asked if/when she was planning another. Her response was telling – yes, after she retires in a few years. Because, at this point, “it wouldn’t be fair to the dog.”
We understand completely. She works long hours, travels to conferences often, and makes trips to the west coast to see one of her children.
She is planning the next dog, though. A smaller one (her Killian was a black Lab mix) that she could travel with. One that wouldn’t shed quite as much – she’d prefer not to deal with the fur.
She never said she didn’t want to be “tied down.” Or that dogs are inconvenient.
Home is where are dogs are
The evening came to an end when the woman Hope barely knew before and had the longest drive home, looked at the time and announced she had to get home to Eli, her Sheltie. That’s when Hope’s friend said she’d never allow her comings and goings to be dictated by an animal’s needs.
The three of us looked at her like she was nuts and, in unison, said “They’re so worth it.”
