A few thoughts about my dog

In my flusteration in the last post I guess I forgot to mention another cool thing about this class: it feels SO good when a certain concept or formula actually sinks in, and I realize that hey – wow! – I actually do KNOW this stuff! I didn't know it before, and now I do. I learned it!

It's been a long time since I've challenged myself with something this difficult, that does not come naturally to me or flatter the image I have of myself as someone who is capable of learning challenging material provided it is sufficiently interesting or self-referential ..... Not that I expect ever to become a statistician, even if the statistics are specifically applied to the behavioral sciences ... It's just cool to see myself taking on something hard, and succeeding.

Also: I've been meaning to write something about my dog lately, and keep putting it off. Here's the thing. He's getting old. Not just senior dog old, but really, truly old. The kind of old that makes him sleep on the couch all day, and not be able to take a long walk every day but more like every other day, with shorter walks in between. The kind of old that grows white fur along his snoot and up around his eyes, that causes him to hesitate before jumping up into the car, or down off the bed, and to grunt and groan with pleasure when being scratched or given his dinner. The kind of old that makes me realize how precious every single day with him really is.

I thought about it again today when we were walking to the end of the road and back. Our turnaround point is at the place where the road dead ends on the creek, and since it's still running I always hike up the little embankment, through the nettles and weeds, and stand on the overlook, watching the water moving over the rocks and listening to the sound of it flowing and burbling on ... Truly, this sound is the saving grace of my days and nights during this time of my life when I feel like I don't know what I'm doing at all, or what I'm going to do, or what is going to happen, or where I'm going to be ... Listening to that water running along its happy little course does more to calm my mind than any other kind of exercise or therapy I've ever tried. So I do it every day, and every single day my dog goes with me, and waits for me as long as I want to stand there listening. He never says a word, or looks to see if I'm done yet – he's just there, intensely tuned in to Me, accepting of whatever it is I want or need to do.

I love to watch his feet on the grass by the side of the road as we walk back home. I love to watch his ears bounce up and down, and his tail moving from side to side. I love the interested look on his face when he looks me in the eye – not with any agenda that I can see, but just to see what's next. He's the most open, connected and present being I think I've ever known.

It's really profound for me, a person who uses words for everything whether they're appropriate or not, to be able to spend so much time – almost all my time lately, really – with someone who doesn't use words at all, yet manages to communicate so clearly about so many things that really matter. With Mr. A being gone these couple of weeks it's become especially clear how beautiful and calming it is to connect emotionally with someone who knows how to make me feel safe and loved in the world, to feel like I belong, all without telling me anything. Human beings being what we are, I don't know if that would be possible with another person – unless it was a baby; I suppose what I'm trying to describe is kind of the same as what parents talk about when they try to express how they feel when they're connecting with their babies.

The difference is that a dog is not a baby, or a human being, either. With another human I can see how it would feel familiar, in a way, and sort of magical to be able to connect without language ... but knowing that eventually language would come, and be part of the relationship – that would have to change things, I think. With a dog, you know absolutely that it's never going to happen. A dog will never learn to talk the way people do, and that seems like kind of a good thing. Liberating.

I've read essays by dog enthusiasts imagining what their dogs would say if they could speak. Somehow, that just doesn't interest me. What interests me is the mystery of it....

Hrm, losing my train of thought. I just really, really love this dog, so much. The older he gets, the more grateful I feel for the opportunity to know how it feels to love someone that way. Here's a great line from Mary Oliver:

To live in this world, you must be able to do three things: to love what is mortal; to hold it against your bones knowing your own life depends on it; and, when the time comes to let it go, to let it go.

I'll always be grateful to my beautiful dog for helping me learn how to really truly live in this world.