More than the Last Time

Today is my dog’s eleventh birthday. The picture is one of him “guarding” our bedroom. It was taken today. Kulfi, his name, has celebrated all of his birthdays with my wife and me. He came to live with us as a puppy at our home in Pennsylvania. My wife grew up with collies, but Kulfi is the first one I’ve known. So, I can’t say how he compares to other collies. But I can say that he is the gentlest animal I have ever known.

One of the few phrases I know and use in Hebrew is הוא עדין מאוד [Hu adin me’od]. It means “He is very gentle.” I learned to say it to reassure parents whose enthusiastic toddlers would come barreling up to Kulfi with both arms outstretched to hug him. I have to say that he has no street credits with the multitude of cats who live in our neighborhood. They all know they needn’t fear him. This morning, as we leisurely strolled back home following his morning walk, one of the neighborhood cats, a grey striped one, came up to him, gave him a gentle bump in the chest, and then wove himself in and out of Kulfi’s legs before leaving. This cat has known Kulfi for several years, and I can’t remember when he feared him.

This memory is not to say that no one fears him. Those who do, however, are usually grownups with bad experiences with dogs; some have told me they were bitten as children. They see his long nose, teeth, and size and stop or retreat from him. But even they, after being near him for a while, will often warm up and give him a very light tap on the head before leaving. Kulfi expects people to touch him and rub his head or back. He enjoys it.

My wife’s family had a tradition of naming their dogs after Indian foods. When I met my wife, she had a standard-sized poodle named Nimbu Pani. “Nimbu Pani” is a Hindi term that translates to “Lemon Water” in English. It is a popular Indian drink made by mixing freshly squeezed lemon juice with water. It’s often sweetened with sugar. Sometimes, it’s salted and flavored with various spices, especially cumin. Nimbu died a few years after we were married and before we came to Israel. It was then we acquired Kulfi.

At the time, I was working with several Indians and asked if they could suggest a name for our new blue merle collie. We reviewed the suggestions and settled on Kulfi. We liked the sound of it as well as what it is. Kulfi is a popular frozen dessert originating from the Indian subcontinent, notably India and Pakistan. Some call it “Indian ice cream,” but its texture and flavor are unique and distinguish it from Western-style ice cream. When Israelis ask me my dog’s name, I tell them. Often, they will ask what it means. I respond in Hebrew: גלידה [ice cream]. They will look at his beautiful coat and laugh.

A few years ago, I wrote a poem called “More than a Leash Binds Us.” The poem was originally published in “Poetry Pacific” in November 2016. Subsequently, it was included in my poetry chapbook “God’s Memory,” published by Kelsay Books in 2021. I reprint it here:

More than a Leash Binds Us

…he made him a coat of many colors.
— Genesis 37.3

Every morning, before the world wakes up,
we walk, my dog and I.
Our pace is slow;
mine because of age,
his because of joy.

He lingers over late night scents,
flowers newly bent,
strange tufts of grass.
Later, he is patient as I stand,
eyes closed, in a copse of trees,
listening to the wind moving leaves.

There is a field the way we go.
Unleashed, his heart runs his legs in circles,
the sun shining off his coat —
more glorious than Joseph’s.
Finished, he lies panting at my feet,
looking up as if to say,
“Wasn’t that neat what I did.”

He finds a stick and gently picks it up,
waves it like a drum major’s baton
as we continue our way home.

More than a leash binds us
as we walk, my dog and I.
More than a leash binds us.

The American physician Andrew Weil is fond of Rhodesian Ridgebacks. In his book Healthy Aging, he recounts looking at a photo of two of his dogs. One was a young male named Jambo, less than a year old; the other, B. T., was a fifteen-year-old female, all white from aging. He says she had to be put down the day before her sixteenth birthday. Then he says this:

Jambo is now eight years old, still in his prime, still sleek, handsome, and vital, with a deep, soulful personality that makes him an ideal companion animal. Most people who meet him comment on how good-looking he is, the perfect combination of strength and beauty. Sometimes if I am reading in bed at night, I invite him to come up and sit beside me for a few minutes. If I rub his chest in a certain way, he looks up toward the ceiling, extending his neck in a posture of noble contentment that I find very appealing. But when he is in this position, I cannot avoid noticing the first white hairs on his otherwise black chin. And whenever I see them, I also cannot avoid noticing that there are more than the last time I looked.

Weil, MD, Andrew. Healthy Aging (p. 15). Knopf Doubleday Publishing Group. Kindle Edition.

Kulfi, also known as the Wonder Dog, is no longer still in his prime. But many people tell me how good-looking he is. And he is. Wikipedia gives the lifespan of rough collies, what Kulfi is, as 11-14+ years. Both of us are nearer the end than the beginning. But my journey with him is pleasant, and I wish him on his birthday the same as I wish all my human friends on their birthday: “May you live to be 120.” Whatever that is in dog years. Happy birthday, Kulfi!

All the best,
Gershon