Me and the Dawg have had a rough week. Normally I can meditate (and medicate) my way through and around the pain I live with. It never goes away, but I can put it on the back burner, so to speak, and get on with my life.
But sometimes, that’s just not enough. Last week I was so wracked with pain that I could see nothing else. I spent days in bed, just getting up to go to the bathroom. And, of course, feed Dawg and let him take care of his needs in the front yard. Fortunately, I have a very long leash for that chore. Dawg fretted and worried over me, unsure of what to do. Finally he just lay on the bed next to me, adding comfort through his proximity. And, as it always does, the episode eventually passed.
But it got me to thinking about Dawg’s solution to my agony. All he did was love me, in that altruistic and non-judgmental way that only a dog can do, and stay close so that I wouldn’t be alone. Like the little drummer boy, he offered his gift openly, naively, and freely.
Even as I write it, I laugh at the absurdity of the phrase “all he did”. If I was a Christian, I’d say my companion is an Angel. If I was a Hindu, I’d say he was a saint, reborn. Perhaps he’s an incarnation of Buddha, I don’t know. But I do know that he offers me a life-lesson each and every day. Sometimes the lesson is on patience, sometimes it’s on how little it takes to be happy. Last week it was on the healing power of love…and proximity.
What a dog I got — and to think that his previous caretaker just threw him away. Well, it’s her loss, and very definitely, my gain. Namaste, little sister, for the blessings you sent my way.