What If Your Dog Could Live Forever?

Recently I was standing in an isle of fiction at Barns & Noble. It was a busy Saturday and I was looking for something new. A thin, gray-haired lady, full of energy was speaking to two other young people with passion about about a book. “The dog is 250 years old,” she said. I was listening in while looking for a paperback version of “Gwendy’s Magic Feather,” Richard Chizmar’s squeal to “Gwendy’s Button Box,” – a book I had enjoyed greatly.

“The best part is,” she continued. “The dog doesn’t die in the end.” I was intrigued – a 250 year old dog that kept living? After she finished, she noticed I had the hardback of “Gwendy’s Magic Feather” in my hand. She spoke passionately about various horror authors, especially about Joe Hill, the son of Stephen King. After she finished, I said, “I overheard you talking about a dog book…” Excitedly, she handed me the book in question, “Tomorrow.” She flipped it to a section and told me to read. It was written beautifully, like an 19th century Henry James novel. She said she loved the book immensely. I decided to buy the book, not knowing if it was something I would enjoy or not, but I trusted her passion and was wrapped in it.

“Tomorrow,” by Damian Dibben, is through and through about the loyalty of a dog. It is a work historical fiction that takes place over 250 years through the 16 and 1800s and is told from the dog’s perspective. For 175 of those years, the dog waits near the steps of a cathedral where he last saw his master, waiting for him to come back. His master had mysteriously disappeared one day, but had told the dog, “If we get separated, wait for me by the steps.” And the dog did. The entire story is told from the perspective of the dog, who is seemingly immortal thanks to an elixir once given him to his master.

The book was astounding. It was sad, it was hopeful, and it was heartbreaking at times. The dog had so many emotions while waiting for his master, but never lost track of the goal: to find him. Moreso, I was impressed by the writing style of a book released in 2018 that resembled so many 19th century books I have read.

I finished it several weeks ago, but I’ve been thinking about it a lot this week. I sat having breakfast and doing Latin homework with Caesar on Thursday. He forced himself behind me and kicked until I paid him some attention. The sunlight was pouring through our bay window in just right way on Caesar’s face, which drew attention to the amount of gray and white hairs that now speckled his black and brown face – my dog has gotten old.

One of the hardest parts of having a dog is watching them age far sooner than you will. I often feel overwhelmed about the lack of time I have left with Caesar and Jeter. Dogs are given, on average, 10-15 years of life – mine are already approaching 9 and 8. They are with us only a short time considering how long we get to live. If you continue allow dogs into your life, you may have several before the end of yours. Caesar is my first dog; he came into my life when I was 19. Jeter, only a year younger, came into my life when I was 20. These two dogs are my entire world, but sometimes I think about how many other dogs will fulfill my heart after they are gone. If I live until 80 years old, I could have many more dogs, but what if I could make Caesar and Jeter live forever? Would I?

“Tomorrow,” shows you that immortality isn’t always a blessing. When something happens to his master, the dog in the story is forced to continuing living, only thinking of his master every single day for 175 years. Most of his days end in misery, when yet another sun sets without their reunion. He watches as the world changes around him, as other dogs come into his life and later die of age. You’ll be happy to know, his master is also immortal, and they do return to each other in the end, and there is a perfectly good reason why his master was gone for so long. Of course, this isn’t the only book about immortality, the most famous perhaps being “The Portrait of Dorian Gray” by Oscar Wilde. In both of these books, we find out immortality can be lonely and somewhat of a curse. It can drive people mad and it can be painful to watch the world change and those around you die.

No, I don’t think I’d like to live forever, nor would I force that on an animal that doesn’t have a voice in the matter, but maybe it would be nice for Caesar and Jeter to live until 80 years old or so. I wonder though, if dogs did live as long as we did, would it change who they are; would it change how we interact and feel about them?

My hope in life is to outlive any dog I ever have. I hope, that at the end of my life, I live longer than the last dog I have. I never want my dog to wonder where he will go when I am gone. I know that I will love any dog I ever have much more than someone else would who would take them on if I died. I’m often saddened by stories about how painful it is for a dog to lose their master – dogs laying on graves of their deceased human best friends, dogs mourning even the loss of other dogs. Would it be fair for dogs to live so long – to live even longer than us?

Often I think about how people are faced with hard choice of choosing when their dog dies – when they have to “put their dog down” (a phrasing that I absolutely hate). As humans with vast intelligence, it’s our duty to be stronger than the animal who commits their life to us. Some humans have chosen to leave the room when their dog is dying. In their last moments, dogs are left with strangers, wondering why in this moment, their very last moment, they can’t find the one person they trust – the one person they have vigorously dedicated their life to. I could never do that. As hard as it will be one day when Caesar and Jeter die, I hope I am there. I hope that the last thing they see is my love for them, letting them know that it is okay to go, and that I will, one day, be okay too.

No, the more I think about it, the more I think it would be unfair for dogs to live as long or longer than we do. Before “Tomorrow,” I may have said, “I wish they could live forever.” But there is so much more to that idea than what we ever think about. Certainly, they don’t live long enough – they never do, but I think the best way any of us could honor our dog’s lives is by giving the best life to another dog.