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Wednesday, September 24, 2014

Apples Honey and Augie the Doggie

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,

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