Remember the celtic hero I told you about named Cuchulain? Well, according to many, he was the "greatest" Celtic hero. Here is a story about him that stood out to me (in mostly my own words):
As a youth, Cuchulain was once late to a dinner at a home protected by a giant dog. No one could ever pass this dog. The people inside were dining and they heard a great commotion outside their home. The great hound was clearly defending the home against some large force. Everyone gathered outside to see what was occurring. They saw a young boy fighting the great hound. With a loud cry, the hound fell to the ground dead. Cuchulain stood with one foot on the carcass. Everyone celebrated the young warrior, but then the clamor died down, "for there stood their host, silent and sorrowful over the body of his faithful friend, who had died for the safety of his house and would never guard it more" (Rolleston 184). Cuchulain offers to train a pup from that dog up as a great guard dog, however for the rest of his life he has a geis against eating flesh from his namesake (ie: the dog; which seems really random, but in fact, is very important). Later in his life, Cuchulain is coerced into eating dog meat and is killed in battle the next day (after fighting an entire army off for an extended period of time...he really does put many heroes to shame).
What I was most struck by in this story, though, was the host's ability to mourn the loss of an animal, which I feel is often missing from stories of heroes. This happens many times throughout Celtic mythology. It seems the Celts saw even in animal friends a connection to the earth and the divine. There's another tale where a dying warrior's horse is mortally wounded, but the horse still manages to lead the warrior's friends to the dead body of his master. The horse lays down next to the corpse, places his head on its lap, and closes his eyes.
I relate so profoundly to the deep connection between the animals and their human counterparts. My dear Ace is such an important part of my life and at times I don't think I can articulate how much I love him. He helps me to see so much of the world. Sometimes when I watch him interact with other dogs, I see how guarded he can be. Ace will rush at a foreign dog and bark as loud as possible, throwing his tail as high and possible, back and forth, back and forth, attempting to scare the other dog before it can scare him. This display allows him to stay isolated and to continue to be "safe". But I can't allow him to be reinforced for this behavior. When we're together, we sit and wait as the other dog walks by. Some days (like today), it is no big deal and Ace seems content to see another dog. Other days, he lets out a low whine and seems tortured by its very existence. Sometimes I think Ace and I have more in common than I could ever explain. I think he came to me because I needed him. Because I needed to be reminded of why those "safe" places aren't really safe. They're just isolated. So, in perhaps one of the most ironic couplings of all time, I am teaching him how to be open and to accept others. I am showing him how to be in the world. At the same time, he shows me how worthwhile it is because when Ace plays with another dog, he is the kind of happy I can only express by laughing. He is pure--alone and connection to another. And he reminds me to be likewise.
As I start my first official week of graduate school, I'll carry these thoughts with me. And for you, another thought from a wise man:
"All good things are wild and free..." -Henry David Thoreau
