Devotion for Dog Lovers

On the days when the rest has failed you, just stop. Try to meditate. Slow down your brain. Slow it all down. We’re all going too fast. 

Close your eyes. Find a comfy spot to sit for ten, five, even two minutes. Go.

Breathe.

Now open your eyes. Focus on your dog: how his ears turn to you when you shift your weight on the couch. He’s aware, because he’s dedicated to you. Centuries of breeding and training and evolution have created this little being who wants to be yours. He wants to partner with you. No matter what.

In a big crowd of people, he’ll find you first and never stray far from your scent. He’ll sleep next to you nightly. He’ll let you roll him on his back and remove burrs from his nether-regions. He’ll ask only for your love, your patience, your presence, and your praise.

When you do praise him, he’ll respond with a full body wiggle, complete glee, mouth open, tail twirling, and a funny thing will happen:  you’ll feel it too. Just a smidge of that glee will bounce around the room and end up inside you. You might even chuckle from the way deep down place, uprooting some of the stuckness, displacing a smidge of the sorrow.

You’ll take a deep breath, deeper than you could before. That’s what I call Dog Medicine.

I take it daily and recommend it to all my friends. (Also available from the occasional cat.)