Five Spiritual Lessons I Learned From My Dog

Other people may be searching for gurus, arguing the existence or nonexistence of God, grinding political axes, and doing yoga.

That's fine. I admire their energy and devotion.

As for me, though, most days I am here hanging out with my dog, writing, and working on our house and the acre that came with it. It's a quiet life, and I love it.

You might think that leaves me spiritually deprived, but not so!

My dog is a total Buddha, right down to the round belly (a quality I now share with him).

Over the course of my dog's nine years he has taught me many deep spiritual truths, some so deep I kind of forget what they are.

(Or is it where they are? Oh well, whatever.)

What follows are five that I do remember.

Feel free to pass them on or use or discard any as you see fit.

You know how some horses can count and some apes can communicate in sign language? Well my dog can tell time. Seriously.

My dog always knows exactly what time it is without ever looking at one single watch or clock.

For instance, you know what time it is now?

Now! It's NOW.

It's aways NOW.

If going for a walk later this afternoon sounds good, NOW is way better. If having a delicious snack after the yard is mowed sounds wonderful, having it NOW is the most brilliant idea ever! (You need energy to mow the lawn, right?)

Many people spend years in meditation to learn that it is always now.

I learned it in about a week, just because this dog came to live with us.

My dog is always up for a walk outdoors and he won't let me forget it. From the minute my feet hit the floor in the morning my dog is right there, urging a walk outdoors as the perfect meditative exercise.

And you know, he's right. It's hard to be crabby outdoors, and it's double hard to think deep thoughts while walking outdoors with a dog. You have to keep your wits about you or you fall down hills, step in poo, trip over clumps of weeds, and fall into other unpleasant situations. Basically, you have to stop thinking and just be outdoors with your dog. That works. But it takes awhile to learn.

Once you get into that dog zone, you notice all kinds of wonderful things, like the fact that nothing stays the same from week to week, or even, sometimes, from day to day. Also, there are other creatures out there who are not you. And bad weather is kind of amazing when you are out in it. I'm not making this up, it's totally true.

Take a walk with a dog and you will see it yourself, I promise.

When my dog first came to live with us, I was really worried about it. I've never had a dog, and he's huge--about 120 pounds on a non ice-cream day--and of a breed that has more strength pound for pound than an elephant. So the prospect of having to walk and care for this dog all day really freaked me out, and the dog could see that.

For the first month or so, walking this dog was like compiling a catalogue of all the different ways a human being can take a prat fall or dislocate a shoulder, but over time, my dog got the idea that he was expected to 1) not get me injured, and 2) stay close and not yank on the leash.

But that still wasn't enough.

I am not the world's most assertive person. In fact, I'm so introverted that I have, on occasion, accidentally swallowed my own head and had to ask for help removing it from whatever body cavity in which it has gotten stuck (again).

But when you are with a dog, you have to reach down deep and pull out some confidence. You have to FIND that damn confidence, because if you don't, your giant dog who loves you more than deer poop and beefsteak will threaten to tear apart anything he thinks you are scared of.

Yikes.

Once I realized this and saw that I had to 'step it up' confidence-wise, it not only changed me, it changed my dog.

Today, he wouldn't hurt a fly, and we can walk past any German Shepherd or English Bull Terrier and just watch the other dog freak out and slaver at the end of a leash without even flinching ourselves. Sometimes my dog will just look up at me like, "Wow, what's his problem?" and I'll just say, "Don't worry about it." And we don't.

You can be the Douche Bag of the Century and if you get a dog, that dog will love you as if you are really Saint Francis in disguise, and the thing is, maybe you are. Maybe you don't even know it yet. But the dog will draw it out of you.

Dogs don't hold grudges. They don't care how you look or smell. They would rather be with you than in a whole roomful of celebrities. After hanging out with someone who adores you that much, you start to see other people differently. Maybe the people you were convinced were just born assholes really have hidden positive traits that any dog can easily see. It's at least remotely possible.

If we could love each other even half as much as our dogs love us, we would have no social problems, ever. I know that it seems like an impossible order, but if a dog can do it, well… you know.

Here is my dog's response to almost any idea I propose to him:

"What an AMAZING IDEA! That's MY FAVORITE!"

If I say to him, "Hey buddy, how's about we go out back and break up some sticks for two hours and get covered in dirt and ticks and scraps of dead leaves?" his response is:

"What an AMAZING IDEA! That's MY FAVORITE!"

If I say, "He what do you say we pile into the car and take a half hour drive down to the vet's office where they'll give you a shot and examine all your body openings?" his response is:

"What an AMAZING IDEA! That's MY FAVORITE!"

If I say, "Hey kiddo, there's another squashed opossum out front on the side of the road, we'd better get out there and scrape it off and bury it," his response is:

"What an AMAZING IDEA! That's MY FAVORITE!"

In short, my dog is up for anything, so long as it's with me, and if everything we set out to do doesn't work out all that wonderfully, it's no big deal and all is forgotten once we get back home and have a snack.

Dogs don't obsess about failure or worry about possible unpleasantness ahead, they take life as it comes and enjoy it as much as they possibly can.

The more time you spend with a dog, the more you will too.

And if THAT isn't a spiritual lesson, I don't know what is.