Banjo the great
It has been a couple of years since ol’ Banjo died but his spirit lives on. It lives when I get a note from a parent telling me how much their child loves my book Banjo’s Dream. It lives when I see a picture of a child reading it. It lives because I know he’s still hard at work doing what he did best — loving everyone around him. Sometimes kids ask me about his death and I say, “Banjo’s not here anymore but he’s right here,” and I point to my heart. Because that’s where he will forever live. Banjo comforted me when I was at a low point in my life. Like a good dog, he stood by me as I dusted myself off and started dreaming again. I love hearing kids say, “I’m going to dream like Banjo.” That’s who my old farty brown dog was. He was the little dog who could.
I don’t think it was a coincidence that Pip was born at the same exact moment Banjo died. She hasn’t filled the hole left in our hearts when Banjo left. No, she created her own spot. It would be easy to compare her to him — but I don’t because she’s definitely her own dog. I do think, however, she was sent at the exact moment she was needed. And in that, she has done her job well. She makes us laugh, yell, chase her and curse. She answers only to “treat” and steals socks. She has sucked up to my wife and sleeps pressed up against the back of her legs. Pip is an alpha dog who thinks SHE is in charge. And at times, she is. (I don’t call her “Queen Bossypants” for nothing.) As I get more comfortable with her personality, I’ll be able to write in her rather loud voice.
Pip the great
Never underestimate the healing power of a good dog. They listen when no one else does. They greet you like you’ve liberated Paris every time you come home. They love you when you’re unlovable. DOG spelled backwards is GOD. A good dog will remind you of that every single day.
Thank you Banjo and Pip for your spirit and for bringing joy into my family’s lives.