Tuesday, February 3, 2015

What a dog can teach us about the depths of our own humanity


( I wrote this post on a day I was facing down a major life choice and was self-absorbed momentarily with my own disappointment and disillusionment.   A loping, loveable Labrador wandered into view and opened the world back up to me.  Now, just a few months later, I looked back at this and realized how profound and sustaining the qualities Lois embodied are -- simplicity, openness, playfulness, love and wonder)  :

I’ve been watching my Labrador, Lois, playing inside her little tent house, head popping up to look out at birds and squirrels and gauge the distance between her and them and the physics of a well-timed lunge.  Sometimes she walks out of her house and comes to the French doors next to where I am sitting and she lies on her back and looks up at me with those innocent, all seeing Labrador eyes, and of course I want to be in her world. 

Lois is incredibly important to the universe and blessedly unaware of that.  She is majestic and goofy at the same time.  She tries very hard to sit for a long time when told to do so, but she loves you so much and is so happy to see you that eventually her emotions get the best of her and you have armloads of Labrador and paw prints on your chest.  Lois is uncomplicated. 

Food and love are her primary focuses (and squirrels and the slow moving turkeys that walk the neighborhood and end up on our roof in an awkward flurry of disused wings because they’ve gotten too close to her).  She slides across the hardwood floor onto her large bed in front of the hearth, and then it too slides across the floor and she looks about her mystified by her continued motion forward.  Eventually she lands in some corner of the room and she sets her head down on the bed and looks up again with those Labrador eyes.  Her tail wags.  She is in some kind of heaven just being near me, and at times I am overwhelmed by that simple responsibility. 

Lois lives large and fully open to life every day.  I don’t know the particular status of her short term or long term memory – but it’s clear each day is a gift, each new rawhide a treasure like no other, each time she sees my son Mack up on the landing peering down at her from the upstairs balcony her heart surges as if it is her first sight of him.  She has her own rich, inner life too.  She contemplated a lady bug for quite some time this afternoon, mesmerized. 

Am I a good human to her, a good friend and companion?  Hopefully, but I think the truth is as long as I am kind, playful now and then, and keep a food bowl nearby, she forgives me my shortcomings and accepts me as I am.  Lois lives in the daylight, even when it’s dark outside.  She is in so many ways my role model (and not just because she can catch a squeaky football with significantly greater consistency than any of my other playmates and doesn’t mind going outside with me at halftime).  You know what I think? 
I think the day Mack fell in love with her at first sight fourteen months ago was one of the best days ever and it’s a gift to emulate Miss Lois and enjoy the simple things in life and to feel your heart expand in your chest and your tail wag of its own volition at the sight of someone you love; or you know, or you are quite excited at the prospect of meeting; at the sight of a nice rawhide or a lady bug, or that slow moving turkey across the street.  For every turkey who realizes in time that he can fly, for every lady bug who also flies away – there’s always the gift of a buried rawhide somewhere in the yard that you discover quite by accident and get to carry in your mouth triumphantly as you come inside to slide across the floor onto that big comfy bed by the fire.   Yes, life is good, love is empowering, wonder abounds - and Lois is my daily reminder of that.      

No comments:

Post a Comment