I used to think it was a cliche when I heard some people say everything in life is a gift, and then I came to understand that the reason cliches are cliches is that almost all of them are true. That’s how a cliche is born.

Gus is a good example, one of many in my life. As many of you know,  we are  dealing with Gus and his megaesophagus, a difficult disease that causes food to be blocked in the esophagus. It’s a tough disease, dogs often die of malnutrition, pneumonia, even starvation.

Gus is doing well, he is an affectionate and playful dog, he is great fun, other than these regurgitations, which can be nasty he seems himself. So far, we can live with it, and happily.

We have changed Gus’s diet, and drastically limited his exposure to all but the approved soft and moist food, which seems to slip through the esophagus most of the time. Unfortunately, he can only go outside to eliminate, he is restricted until we find the proper muzzle for him when he leaves the house.

The problem is that he eats like a little hog, and even the slightest deviation in food causes chronic vomiting and regurgitation. With megaesophagus, it’s all about texture. Some foods move through the esophagus, hard or dry foods don’t.

Part of the new protocol for Gus calls for one of us – me and Maria take turns – sitting holding him upright in our laps for between 12 and 20 minutes. This eliminates the need of a Bailey Chair or other devices built to keep the dogs upright while they eat and afterwards.

This sitting with Gus after  eating began as a chore, one we both disliked at first.

Maria and I are both work-centered people, we like to get up early and get to work right away. I ferociously protect my morning time. Gus’s new dietary and holding needs have altered our schedules.

But the morning holdings have evolved into something richer and deeper than we thought, something we both needed and now look forward to. This holding has brought up the very powerful nurturing side of Maria, and me as well. The time has become a meditation for both of us, a way to enter the day more peacefully and more, not less, creatively.

It has made our mornings more spiritual, calmer. It doesn’t really take all that much time.

Sometimes Maria plays Krishna Das on her Iphone while holding  Gus. The two of them settle into a peaceful and beautiful reverie.

At first Gus squirmed a bit, now he seems to love it, he hops up into our laps,  cuddles up and seems to be meditating himself, and with us. I love listening to the music and watching this pure demonstration of love and connection. I do think it is healing, like the acupuncture  treatments he is receiving.

This morning, Maria held Gus while I read to her from the new biography of Henry David Thoreau, a book I am loving.

I can read about Thoreau forever. I read aloud about Thoreau’s journey in their boat up the Concord river and their encounters with boatmen, berries and flowers, and the canal boats that then hauled freight. Maria loved the story, even Gus seemed to be listening.

It was a beautiful passage in the book, and instead of rushing off frantically to get to work, as we usually do, we paused, reflected, gathered ourselves.

This time creates a deeper bond with one another, and with Gus. There are other gifts from his disease. I have learned a lot about dogs, their health, and their digestion. I have learned to think more for myself when it comes to my dogs and their well-being.

I have learned that I can and will happily do things and make sacrifices that I did not believe I would do just a few months ago. I’ve learned about love and its boundaries. I have had to think a lot about what my love of dogs really means and how far it goes. Cleaning up vomit regularly can evoke strong feelings.

So the thing is I got more than I lost when Gus got sick, and he got more than he lost. He is an integral part of the family more than he was before, and our lives with him are full of creative and other challenges.

Maria chose not to have children, and has no regrets about her decision, and I respect it. But she is a natural nurturer, and Gus has provided a nurturing outlet. For both of us.

Gus gets into the most trouble when he gets outside and eats chicken droppings, rabbit and sheep pellets and other things which are, for him, indigestible. I came up with the idea of putting a muzzle on him outside so he can walk with us and be in the pasture but not eat food that makes him sick and exacerbates this disease.

So now, I am becoming an expert on muzzles. We’ve been through four so far, and none of them work. Some don’t fit, others press against his eyes, or don’t fasten properly. Yes, I am familiar with the makers of good soft muzzles and we are working through them one by one. I think the Royal Canin basket muzzles for small dogs might be the right ones for Gus, they are on the way.

I don’t quit on these things, I will keep at it until we find the right one, he is an adaptable dog, if we find one that is comfortable and fits, he can come along on walks in the woods and on nearby country roads. He loves to come.

So this helps me to understand life and learn more about it. I would prefer that Gus not have megaesophagus, it is not fun for him or for us. But it has deepened and enriched my experience of having and loving a dog. My very strong sense of ethics and boundaries have not changed – this cannot and will be my life.

I do not believe dogs should ever overwhelm me or my life financially or emotionally, caring for Gus can never be what i do, it is only a part of what I do.

At the same time, I have been going through a process of treating a potentially serious retinal disease, lots of tests, trips to specialists, concern about my health. I will undergo laser treatment next Monday. Once again, a gift to me. Learning about my sight, gaining confidence in my responses and judgments, and ending up with my sight reaffirmed, even approved. I am lucky.

In our world, we hide from death and illness, both come as a shock to us, an interruption in life, when in truth, those things are life, we don’t just get the good and happy stuff. I know how to handle good news, I am grateful to learn how to deal with trouble. Nobody gets to life a perfect life. Our dogs get sick and die, so, eventually, does everyone we know and love.

That is what it means to be a human being. It comes as no surprise to me, just another challenge for me to meet with dignity.

For me, it is true that everything in life is a gift, one way or the other, especially if you are open to the idea. We will all get sick, we will all die, grace does not come from a perfect life, but a real life handled with honesty and compassion.