All Things Vincent
“Whoever lives sincerely and encounters much trouble and disappointment, but is not bowed down by them, is worth more than one who has always sailed before the wind and has only known relative prosperity.” -Vincent
I was sitting with Vincent when I heard the news that children had been slaughtered in Uvalde, Texas. Vincent was asleep. He didn’t stir when the anchorman haltingly delivered the numbers and repeated, over and over, that they didn’t know much, it was a fluid situation.
Dogs don’t understand the evil of mankind. They don’t respond to distant horror. Neither are they are concerned with gas prices or barbaric conflicts in faraway places. Dogs have it good.
This particular dog likes to sleep on the couch. He isn’t shy about climbing right up and stretching out. He arrived in our home already knowing the appropriate location for doing his duty (i.e. outside rather than inside), but wasn’t (and isn’t) good on a leash. He absolutely loves to walk... and pull... and jerk... and wander... and sniff... and chase... and basically act like a wild dingo.
“It is good to love many things, for therein lies the true strength, and whosoever loves much performs much, and can accomplish much, and what is done in love is well done!” -Vincent
We got Vincent at the pound. He was a stray they found in Lamar – Lab/Pitbull mix rated as a level 4 on a scale that goes to 5. Level 4 means: “tends to be excitable and can have a very hard time settling down...” When we met him, we hesitated, but he countered with the look: this thing he does with his face and those sad, puppy dog eyes... He knows how to get his way. And he did. Score one for Vincent.
He is a replacement dog. That sounds crass. You can never really replace a dog. Lassie, Toklat, Bandit, Max, Nacho... all irreplaceable. They were standalones. The last in that hall of fame list - Nacho - was elderly when we got him. Majorly overweight. We helped him slim down, turned him into a hiking dog. He was with us long enough to win our hearts and when he left us... he broke our hearts. Like they all do.
Enter Mr. V. The Vin Man. He was already named Vincent. We went with it because... you know... Vincent Van Gogh and all.
“Great things are done by a series of small things brought together.” -Vincent
He watched Dog with us the other night and, unlike our two other dogs, who snoozed through it, expressed real concern when the star - a Belgian Malinois - was in tight situations.
Vincent is 2 or 3 years old (they weren’t sure) and acts like a big puppy. He gets the “zoomies” on a regular basis and the other dogs watch suspiciously, carefully staying out of his way.
“I think that everything that is really good and beautiful, of inward moral, spiritual, and sublime beauty in men and their works, comes from God...” -Vincent
Dogs have historically refused to come down to my basement office. Not sure why. Even Nacho. He would very occasionally walk down the stairs, then immediately go back up again. I was actively recruiting for an Office Dog when Vincent showed up. Despite his hyperactive antics, he is filling the role quite effectively. He usually arrives at work at 7AM sharp, takes a few short breaks to sit outside in the sun, and then hangs out until I call it a day around 4:30PM.
“I am living a day at a time; the weather is so beautiful and I am absorbed in my work. I am well.” -Vincent
He’s not perfect. For instance, Vincent won’t let me juggle. He steals the jugs. He’s finally gotten to where he’ll allow me to play my guitar, without biting the tremolo bar. The trumpet, however, is out of the question. Just opening the case makes him go cray-cray.
Since adopting Vincent, all hell has broken loose in the world - wars and rumors of wars, a new exotic pestilence, soaring inflation... We had a wildfire less than a mile from our home and have been dealing with serious illnesses in the family. Planet earth, which is always a little wobbly, seems to be spinning out of control.
Yet Vincent is unfazed. At this very moment, he is happily sleeping on the pillow next to my desk – like a good Office Dog should. He’s not worried about the economy or that huge asteroid that NASA says is going to be doing a flyby this weekend. Nope. He’s got a great new home that features two furry sisters, a doggie door with 24/7 access to the backyard, daily walks, and two people who are willing to put up with his shenanigans and won’t be dropping him off at Panda Express (probably).
“Close friends are truly life’s treasures. Sometimes they know us better than we know ourselves. With gentle honesty, they are there to guide and support us, to share our laughter and our tears. Their presence reminds us that we are never really alone.” -Vincent
I’ve only had close encounters with two Vincents. One, a starving artist I met through the pages of books, websites, and museums. The other, a lost mutt that inserted himself into our lives via the Humane Society. Coincidentally, they both seem to express the same general outlook on life, namely a passion for living it to the fullest.* They also share a determination and perseverance – an “against all odds” attitude - that is necessary in order to overcome and succeed.
I’m convinced that Vincent Van Gogh would have been happier if he had owned a dog like our Vincent. He’s definitely having that effect on us.
“I am seeking, I am striving, I am in it with all my heart.” -Vincent
*Editor’s Note: Despite the popular belief that Van Gogh committed suicide, another theory suggests that he was shot by accident. In their book, “Van Gogh: The Life,” Steven Naifeh and Gregory White Smith, offer a CSI investigation into the famous artist’s death. Though Van Gogh was plagued with mental illness, they argue that shooting himself not only didn’t fit with his passion for life, it didn’t fit with the evidence on hand. This included a letter he wrote to his brother on the day of the shooting that was “upbeat – even ebullient – about the future.” To read more about their theory, go here.