Generally speaking, other than a honey stained necktie and
some extra pounds, I carry little of sustaining residue from indulging in
apples and honey on Rosh Hashanah.
Clearly it is yummy but, without question, there is a quality of magical
thinking to this custom and belief that eating apples and honey will advance
happiness in the year to come. The same
can be said of Tashlich[1]
where we presume that tossing stale Cheerios or Wheat Thins into the Chattahoochee
or Charles absolves us of our past misdeeds.
Thus, as the New Year approaches, I find myself thinking about Augie, or
as we like to call him Augie the Doggie.
Augie was irresistibly cute when we spied him a year ago at
an adoption event; large brown eyes, oversized paws and an expression our son Jacob
coined the “Sarah McLachlan face”, after the pathos oozing commercial for the
ASPCA. And so we brought him home. All
seemed fine those first days; he was unusually docile, but we chalked that up
to the pain medication he was taking for his broken tooth – acquired we learned
when attempting to chew his way out of a metal cage. And then we left him home alone.
Upon returning, we couldn't quite figure out why large
portions of his body were covered with white powder – until we spied the open
pantry, whose contents, had been turned into a war zone with Cheerios, sugar,
Wheat Thins and, of course, flour strewn all over the floor.
Augie was dutifully
locked up in a large dog cage for our next excursion out of the house. Channeling Krypto, he bent the bars and broke
out. And, in a display of profound industriousness, he ripped out all of the
window screens, knocked down the accumulated knickknacks on our dining room
hutch and relieved our bedroom wall of a framed lithograph.
More restrictive measures were called for and, as we headed
out for a Saturday evening dinner with friends, we locked him in the downstairs
bathroom; after all, what damage could he do.
Further demonstrating his destructive
acumen, he ripped and ate through the dry wall, knocked a framed picture off
the wall shattering its glass and chewed the ends of the vanity doors.
We were about to give up.
Perhaps we had made a huge mistake.
We took him to the vet who told us about “Separation Anxiety” a common
condition among rescue dogs. He
prescribed Prozac and guided us on how to build Augie’s trust and confidence by
leaving him for very brief periods and gradually increasing the time away. Astonishingly, I had found a pet more
neurotic than I am.
A year has passed since our house destruction ordeals. Each morning begins with Augie jumping into
our bed to announce the arrival of morning – and more importantly breakfast
time. His morning kibble is followed by
Prozac wrapped in American cheese.
Whenever possible, Augie and I go hiking in Big Trees a local wooded
preserve. Off the leash, he follows
close behind as we hike the trail, stopping to drink from the stream. He sits at our feet as we read or watch
television. He is slowly transforming
from a sullen, frightened pet to one that is becoming more outgoing and
playful. We say that he is “discovering his
inner dog”. Last month, for the first
time, he chased a squirrel.
Unfortunately, my wife Jo happened to be attached via the leash at the
time. Caught totally off guard by this
unexpected “dogged pursuit”, she took a nasty spill, broke a finger and a tooth
and needed 5 stitches in her chin. She
is still in physical therapy.
What does this have to do with Rosh Hashanah and apples and
honey? Here’s what we’ve learned from Augie the Doggy: The sweetness in life
comes not from consuming or possessing things but in investing in, engaging and
enjoying the company of others – humans and otherwise. Psalms 133 teaches us: “Hiney ma tov u’ma-nayim Shevet ach-im gam
ya-chad”; "Behold, how good and how sweet it is for friends to sit
together”. The sweetness in life is in
the company of others. Thus, the
question is not what will make this
year sweet but who will.
[1]
Tashlich: the custom where, on the first
day of Rosh Hashanah, Jews cast some form of grain (e.g. bread, rice, Cheerios)
upon flowing water, as a metaphorical representation of casting out one’s sins,
