BY MAGGIE BEAMGUARD | Insider Editor
February demands grand gestures and roses, big fancy restaurant reservations and little jewelry boxes, champagne and Marvin Gaye. It’s all in the name of a 3rd century martyr named Valentine, who, in the grandest gesture of all, gave his life — and his head — for the sake of love.
Thankfully we don’t have to go to such extreme measures to express our feelings of love. We don’t need an arrow to the heart to feel love.
My definition of love is currently curled up on the couch emitting the occasional dramatic sigh as she waits for me to finish my work and take her for a w-a-l-k.
My golden doodle, Granger, has entered her refined years. She is no puppy and would like that fact respected. Her full-time job is napping. Excitement is reserved for bacon. Her love is steady and judgement-free, except when dinner is late. She makes meaningful, curious eye contact and has an uncanny ability to know exactly when I need her soft, calm body beside mine.
We think of “puppy love” as the kind of affection that belongs to the young. It’s pure, innocent and sweet, but it applies just as sincerely to our furry friends as it does to our first crushes.
This love is uncomplicated and unconditional. Loyalty is immediate. Joy in is unembarrassed.
Our other “puppy love” isn’t a puppy but a one-eyed cat belonging to my daughter. Alastor Moody navigates the world with swagger and a slightly crooked walk. He is aggressively clumsy, misjudging jumps and taking wide turns. He is utterly unbothered. As far as he is concerned, he nailed that landing. He is a silly goose. And he loves cheese.
Observing how my daughter accommodates his off-kilter approach to life has been its own lesson in love. It’s attentive, gentle and accepting. If first love teaches you how to feel, loving a slightly wonky cat teaches you how to appreciate the beauty in imperfection.
Molly Brown — so named for her chocolate brown coat, not for the “unsinkable Molly Brown” of the Titanic — earns the spot of my first true puppy love. A devoted Labrador, she joined our family when I was eight. Her greatest joy in life was escaping the house and sprinting down the street to the house of the “Bread Man.” Our neighbor regularly left slices of bread out for the birds.
Molly was not interested in the birds. She needed a carb fix. She executed every escape like a star of a heist movie. My job was to chase her down with the leash. She taught me that sometimes you have to chase love — whether that’s bread or your dog.
There was Mystery, our oatmeal-colored tabby who survived a three-day adventure inside a moving van and lived to glare about it. And Pepper, a stray Russian blue awarded to us by the universal cat distribution system. One taught me love can survive anything. The other taught me that sometimes love just shows up and refuses to leave.
Our first cat, Ponce de Leon, lived only a few years. But she taught me one of the most important things about love: don’t wait to show it.
The world can keep its extravagant expressions of love each Valentine’s Day. I’ll take fur and whiskers and sloppy kisses, tails that thump, warm snuggles and someone who is very, very happy to welcome me home.
Contact Maggie Beamguard at maggie@thepilot.com.