Happy and Hunter

So, we had to give away our dog, Happy.

He’s a Hungarian Vizsla, a gorgeous dog, loyal and smart and easy-going, affectionate and true. And I wasn’t even a dog-lover before I met this dog seven years ago. But I did love him, in the way that big, wild, sloppy way that people can love their dogs.

My husband, Jonny, is moving back to Israel to be reunited with the rest of our clan and he was scared that Happy would not be able to make the 15+ hour journey in airplane steerage without drugs, plus the climate change, the house change and everything else. Happy had already been through one trauma when he thought everyone had left him alone and he ran away. Alone and wandering on Montauk Highway, Happy got picked up by a kind woman and spent the night at her house until a search party was organized. Jonny—with the help of Susan O’Rourke—may she rest in peace—picked him up the next day as soon as he was found.

Found, too, was a loving family for Happy. I didn’t think it was possible that our family would ever be replaced but the lesson, once again, is that we are all replaceable. And as you can see from the photo, Happy looks very happy with his new little playmate, Hunter, and since Happy is a hunting dog, all’s well that ends well for Happy and Hunter.

If he’s Happy—and he is in more ways than one—then I’m happy, too.

What’s the best way to be happy? Accepting what can’t be changed. Accepting that what’s best for someone else might not be what I want, but it’s something I have to accept.

Are you happy when someone else is happy—even if things don’t go exactly as you’d want them to go?

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