Summit Wellness: My Two Best Friends - A Story of Dogs & Music
By Summit FM Contributor Marc Lee Shannon
I would arrive home, click on the Yamaha tuner that powers up the Klipsch speakers and subwoofer, and exhale—the simple joy of my favorite music station's at-home, end-of-day comfort. As I took off my jacket, put my backpack on the floor, and plopped on the couch, I would hear paw clicks on the vinyl wood floor and see the spy-like glide from the doorway into the room of my welcome ambassador, Martin the Dog. After a gentle nose nudge and a big-boy stretch, there would be a "Hey, how ya doin'? Woof," and a toothy canine breath smile.
There is just no feeling for a pet lover like walking in the door after a long day of adulting to find a furry friend to greet us and ask for a moment of attention, a salty, crispy thing 'accidentally' dropped on the kitchen floor, and a quick trip to the patch of green just outside.
Music and Pets —my Two Best Friends.
Last February, I got married, and my beautiful bride brought two loving senior dogs to Casa Shannon. Layla and Mika were very different: one skittish and scared of her own shadow, and the other a lumbering shag of orange hair and white whiskers, food-motivated and a constant, familiar presence at the squeak of the fridge opening. To say she was a foodie would not accurately describe her waggy, treat-loving long tail and never-satisfied belly waiting for an upside-down rub-a-dub.
Then it happened: my best pal Martin passed in April of 2022. I am sure my heart will never get over it. My wife Kim's pups were also senior dogs, and we loved them up, but unfortunately, we lost them recently within a month of each other. We both are still not over the loss and probably won't be for a long time.
The house has an eerie feeling of solemn quiet with no dogs. My wife and I promise to remedy this in the next few months, as we miss everything described above and have been preparing ourselves to begin the search. For sure, it will be a rescue that ultimately saves us from the loneliness we feel for our lost and loved furry friends.
It is said that we all want the same thing, all human "beans." That one thing is less suffering, and I get great satisfaction from a warm pet hug, the soft, familiar sound of a radio playing low but still present, and the knowledge that this day will be okay because of My Two Best Friends.
Ah, that other friend?
It's a voice I recognize in between songs, telling me the weather, the big concert announcement, or a Studio C session that, as a member, I can experience—a small format, one-of-a-kind concert from a traveler through the northeast Ohio landscape. An indie band or local heavyweight that shares an hour of stories and songs. The Summit FM is my homeboy, living room pal and background for all my car travels as I make my way on whatever the day brings.
There is comfort in knowing that when I get home, with a flick of the switch, The Summit FM will fill the space with music's energy and healing power. It's a constant in my world, like a cool glass of water on a hot summer day. You know, the one you slam after a long walk in the sun or mowing the back 40. I need to be restored and reset with the perspective of "that song" that somehow knows what my heart feels today—especially when missing our pet pals.
Music, like pets, can heal and repair my mental, physical, and even spiritual well-being in a way that nothing else seems to do. Both can anchor us in the here and now, help bring us back to the moment, and be the vessel that transports us to another place—a unique private village where we can close our eyes and imagine the things that build the bridges to our real-life dreams.
For me, music and pets are the friends in the room who comfort and soothe the soul after a weary day. Both are irreplaceable, undeniable, and unequivocally the best combination.
I’m on that living room couch with the music playing softly in the background, searching for our next best friend online. I hope they like adult album alternative (AAA) programming.