A.K.A.

I have a really good friend that I speak to everyday. Every time we get together he quietly listens as I tell him about my problems or explain my latest life theory. When we were young we both liked to run but now that we are older we just stroll. Our past knee injuries no longer allow us to move with the same grace we once did. Over the years, he has gotten much older than me but those that meet him think he is still young. People no longer make that same miscalculation when guessing my age. Everyday we meet early in the morning, take our medications, and head out on the road.

As we amble along, I will try out my latest ideas on him or tell him stories about my life. He is such a great listener but he never seems to want to talk about himself. Most of the time we get along beautifully but we do occasionally argue about the direction of our excursion or the amount of time we choose to linger at a particular flower or plant. As we walk and I talk, he just cruises along smelling the roses and other things without a care in the world. At times, he seems to be so focused on our surroundings, I begin to doubt if he is listening, but when he turns his head toward me, I know he has heard every word. When he senses that my thoughts are complete, he simply looks up at me and I instantly know if my logic is sound or if my rant was nothing more than the release of steam that he has endured so that others in my life won’t have to. In these moments, when his eyes engage mine, I am able to find clarity of thought and discover perspective. His consistently calm demeanor keeps me from rationalizing faulty arguments and mitigates the duration of my loss of emotional control. Most of the time, his silent gaze causes me to laugh at myself; he is such a good little man, my friend.

The name of my special friend is Charlie, A.K.A. Nobu. He is my dog. He is a Shiba Inu, a Japanese breed, hence the name “Nobu”. It means “first son” in Japanese; it is also the name of a famous sushi restaurant. He is my dog now but that has not always been the case. He once belonged to my ex-girlfriend and me. During the final dissolution of our relationship we had a nasty custody battle over him. The quality of life and depth of love were the main issues, but I guess that is always the case when relationships fall apart. In the end, he came to live with me.

I always thought the name “Nobu” was a little pretentious in that, none of those involved in the naming, including Charlie, ever spoke Japanese. It was one of those decisions that seemed to make sense at the time but in retrospect, now seems borderline ridiculous. It loosely reminds me of people who get Chinese character tattoos when they do not write or speak a word of Chinese. They believe that the ink on their arm says, “Honor” or “Loyalty” but in reality it could say, “Stupid” or “Fat”. So I scrapped the name “Nobu” and for the last two years I have called him Charlie.

I have only had one dog in my life and I will only have one, his name is Charlie. It is more than likely that I will live longer than he and when he is gone I will miss him dearly. I love the little guy, he is so important to my personal journey of self-awareness. I tell him everything, he listens patiently and in doing so, quietly helps me to be a better person. That is not completely honest, I don’t tell him everything. Not long ago, I heard that my ex-girlfriend got a new dog. I did not tell Charlie…some things he does not need to know.