What have you learned from other animals?

How to love.

This is on my mind because I am missing a certain puppy something terrible lately. 

Have you ever thought about how much your dog loves you? 

No matter what horrible thing happens during the day, he's always glad to see you.  Depending on personality of the dog, he might be doing backflips for joy at the sight of you.  He might be licking you so hard, your face is in danger of separating from the bone.  If he's a bitty-itty nervous dog, he might pee himself.  When was the last time anyone peed themselves because they were so happy to see you?

You can yell at him one minute and he's forgotten it the next.  When you're in the moment and you're angry or whatever, he's aware that you're distressed, and he cares...he'll put his droopy little face on your knee and look at you with those eyes, my god, those eyes!  But he's not going to hold it against you tomorrow.  If you accidentally step on his tail, he's not going to bring it up the next time you do it, "You ALWAYS step on my tail. Why are you so clumsy?"   It's just not going to happen.

Your dog just loves you.  He loves you when you've had a bad day.  He loves you when you step on his tail.  He loves you when you go to work.  He loves you when you come home.  He loves and accepts you as you are.  He doesn't notice your "character flaws".  He thinks all your ideas are brilliant. 

And if you decide that you're just going to sit on the couch and mope around about how "horrible" your life currently is, yes, he will comfort you.  For a while.  Then get bored with your deep purple funk and go look for a toy.  Because he's too happy and full of love to allow YOUR shitty mood to put HIM in a bad mood too. 

His love is pure.  Without reason.  It'sunconditional and he brings out YOUR ability to love unconditionally in return.

There's a lot to be learned from the love of a dog.

When The Boy and I broke up last month, I drove out to the farm the next day to pack up my things (for the second time) and leave.  But this time, it was harder.  There was no dog in the picture last time... 

The Boy wasn't there this time...that was a relief.  But Buddha-pup was.  Looking at me with those giant puppy dog eyes and floppy jowls.  He seemed confused by the activity...many things moving out of the house.  And when I finished, I sat in the grass with him for a good half hour, petting him, hugging him, loving him, crying my eyes out.

I went three weeks without seeing him.  I looked at pictures of him (well, pictures of Buddha and His Boy) every day, thought about his big furry head resting on the bed waiting for me to get up, thought about his silly teen puppy antics, and I cried.  I finally couldn't take it any more and called to ask if I could come get him. 

When I got there, he was jumping up and down.  He was so excited, he scratched up and bruised my legs trying to jump on me.  He licked my face, my hands, my shorts, my knees, my toes.  And then he sat down and gave me this sort of reproachful look, like, "Where the hell have you been?" 

Okay, that last part was most likely my guilty conscience projecting onto him.  He was so happy to see me, I doubt he remembered that I hadn't been there for weeks.  Then he grabbed a stick, smacked me in the head with it, and lured me into a game of Tug of War.  He's a fricken smart dog.

Sometimes I wonder if it might have been a bad idea to go visit him.  I miss him so much and saying goodbye again was so much harder this time.  Being at the house definitely was a hard thing, seeing my flowerbeds overgrown, flowers being choked to death by weeds.  Sitting on that porch where I spent hours with a guitar singing to the crows and the barn cats and to Buddha.  All these memories just flooded back and choked me up...that sharp chest pang that feels almost unbearable.

It might have been a mistake.  A friend said to me last night, "Are you sure that anything you've done in your life was a mistake?  Did it feel like a mistake at the time?  Did it feel like what you needed to do?  Because if it felt like the right thing at the time, then you haven't made any mistakes."

So I'm going to choose that it wasn't a mistake.  I needed to see him, to hold him, to have him lick my pain away.  Because my heart was closing up severely.  He helped me to reopen it a little bit.

But I also know I need to let go now.  He's not MY dog.  Just like I have to let go now of the other.  He is not MY Boy.