It's safe to say that God is the best and most obvious example of unconditional love.  In the earthly realm things aren't as simple.  Parents can upset us, siblings can become detached.  Children can disappoint us, spouses can alienate. As the years pass BFFs often become distant memories.  But through the highs and lows in life one thing is guaranteed....regardless of your age, marital status, career path, financial stability, your dog will always love you.  A dog is the purest form of unconditional love in this life.

It took some smooth talking and a bit of emotional manipulation, but nearly eighteen years ago I was able to convince my mom to let me get a dog.  I made a call to the local shelter and was set up with a family who had just gotten a puppy but had to let her go because of an impending move.  After a phone conversation they brought over ten week old 'Hannah' --a cream colored fluff ball with big slipper like feet-- for a visit.  I remember sitting on the kitchen floor (some of the ugliest yellow linoleum in history) and calling her over to me;  with the clap of a hand she came bounding over and slid right into my lap.  Done deal.  She was mine.  The family left and Peaches became the first true love of my life.  "That dog is going to be huge" said mom.  "Just look at her paws."

Peaches was special (only pet owner to think that, right?).  As a puppy she could chew through a pair of shoes in record time.  She always seemed to have a smile on her face.  She was a happy, happy dog.  Fiercely protective, she defended me against intruders the likes of the U.P.S. man with mother bear like prowess.  Always at the ready for a car ride, one clink of the keys would start her spinning in circles towards the door in anticipation.  Literally.  And she was smart too.  How many dogs do you know who can spell?  Couldn't even spell the word walk without causing her heart to start racing.  When she was younger (and could still jump onto the bed) I'd leave the house, bed made nicely, and return to find her not just on the bed but IN it.  Seriously.  Under the covers, head on the pillow.  Special.

One of the best parts of being mama to a dog like Peaches for so many years was the deeply rooted relationship that was formed.  We understood the nuances of each others emotions in a way that was truly unique.  I could speak to her like a human and she knew exactly what I was saying.  Often times I didn't even need to speak.  Many a time when I was sick or feeling badly about something she's seek me out and lay with me.  Best cuddle buddy ever.  Years spent together taught her to leave the room if I turned on football (I tend to yell.  A lot) and taught me that she didn't like yellow Starburst.

And as is often the case, when we lose a trusted friend or family member, the things that we miss aren't the obvious.  It's the little things that make the void most apparent.  I miss the sound of her sneezing when she lays on her back.  I miss the way she falls asleep with her tongue sticking out.  I miss the smell of her in the bedroom.  I used to get annoyed by the copious amounts of dog hair that filled my house (my car, my purse...).  Now I dread the day when I'll be able to leave the house without a lint roller.

Please don't pass the soap....

As I lay in bed last night, trying to fall asleep to the soothing sounds of SNL, I was first made aware of the efforts by a large publishing company to edit (destroy) the extraordinary piece of literature, Adventures of Huckleberry Finn.  From what I read this morning, the publishers have decided to remove the 219 usages of the word nigger in an effort to make the book more 'palatable' for modern audiences.  Frankly I don't understand that on any level.  It begs the questions: Why are we comfortable with rewriting history?....Why are we willing to desecrate art merely because we disagree with its contents?.....Why do we choose to condescend to our children because it is easier than discussing a difficult subject? And most importantly, why would anyone want to make the subject of slavery more palatable?  Slavery is inherently offensive.  It was a terrible part of our nation's history from which far too many people died (both firsthand and as a part of the the fight).  But it is our history, nonetheless, and it is dangerous to make believe differently.  I don't ever want to think of the injustices of our past -slavery or otherwise- as anything less than despicable. As the saying goes, 'Those who forget history are doomed to repeat it'.  What will be the fate of those who willingly and voluntarily eliminate history? 

And is anyone else stupefied by the people who claim to be proponents of free speech yet are willing to dissect famous literature because they find it offensive?  Freedom of speech is all well and good when you are creating art the likes of a crucifix in a jar of urine, or when you are glorifying a Cop Killer in song, or when you go Bowling for Columbine.  But dare someone use a derogatory term about a black, a Jew, a gay, a woman, and all hell breaks loose.  You can't have it both ways people.  In order for our individual freedoms to persist we must take the good with the bad. 

Let's put aside for the moment the fact that Mark Twain was a satirist and there is a great chance that he chose his words to depict the ridiculousness of the racial inequities of the time.  Let's instead make the choice (another liberal buzz word that gets distorted) to use pieces of literature with potentially questionable content as a part of our greater education.   If I find something offensive I want to remember WHY I find it offensive so that I can be an advocate for the opposite.  I am not willing to erase the bitterness of the past.  Just ask a Jewish friend about how palatable that horseradish is at their next Seder.

I grow weary of the mindset that drives us to sugar coat everything. Much too much has been sanitized in the name of political correctness and protection of one's feelings.  Just as we have learned that too cleanly an environment can actually make us sicker, we should understand that this type of censorship only stands to make us weaker as a nation.  And I can guarantee that when my daughter reads Huck Finn she will have the opportunity for the words Nigger Jim to leave a bad taste in her mouth.