If you’re a dog person, it’s only after you’ve gone for a time without one that you realize some of your human aloofness has crept back and some of the dog wisdom got lost somewhere in that bereft-of-dog time.
My dad dearly loved and admired dogs, spoiling the ones in his family with too much food. “Go and see the woman,” he would say to our dog Willie, the king of mooches, gesturing towards my mother in the kitchen. “She’ll get you something.” Or, “Would you like a little treat? Wait now, Pop will go and get you a bit of bologna.”
Dad and Willie are both gone now — together, I hope, in some place with a magical self-replenishing fridge.
I say Dad admired dogs because I know he appreciated their loving hearts and generous natures, just as I do. And he responded to them in kind.
And that’s one of the chief things you learn from dogs. Why hold back?
Twenty minutes on a starlit night in a snowy park with a dog can do wonders for your psyche, particularly if you’re feeling stressed, as many people are this time of year.
Watching our new little guy, Lucci, romp in the heavy, clumpy snow, with no timetable and no agenda, is a glorious thing. Seeing him running in manic circles, thrusting his nose into rat holes, rolling on his back, following the scent of another dog’s tracks — feels freeing. Seeing his joy makes me slow down and savour the moment. Dogs, teach you that, along with spontaneity.
That is why planning a precisely timed walk through the park with your dog — exactly one circuit, then head for home — does yourself and the dog a disservice. Dogs know the possibilities that abound when you take the path less travelled. You never know what you will see, smell, hear, or who you will meet if you take your time and let yourself wander. And if you feel like throwing yourself on your back and making a snow angel along the way, just do it.
Dogs generally greet people with unabashed enthusiasm. Most everyone is assumed friendly until proven otherwise. And while I’m not suggesting you make a habit of leaping up on people you don’t know in the grocery store, smiles and small talk rarely go unrewarded. It’s easy for us to close ourselves off with our cellphones or our thoughts as we wait in line for the checkout. Dogs would use the opportunity of being surrounded by other members of their species to make new acquaintances and have some fun.
Too often, humans feel like they must practice emotional restraint, holding some part of their happiness in reserve for fear of jinxing it, or in order to avoid seeming too vulnerable. Dogs do not recognize the word “reserved.” The hands and faces of people are meant to be licked, tails to be wagged, affection to be shared (and dropped food to be eaten). It’s that simple.
Dogs are the antithesis of country and western hurtin’ songs. They won’t break your heart and they’ll do you no wrong. They are loyal and true.
Of course, even dogs can have emotional baggage. We don’t know why ours stiffens and stares straight ahead when we put his jacket on (and no, it’s not an ugly jacket). We don’t know why leaving him alone in the bathroom for a moment as the tub is filling makes him shriek as if someone was beating him. He doesn’t mind the bath, otherwise.
But mostly he revels in simple pleasures, starting each day by going from sleep to exuberance in seconds.
Granted, most of us have far more cares. Still, if you can find a few minutes here and there to see things from a dog’s point of view, the world will seem a little more peaceful, a little simpler, for it.
Pam Frampton is The Telegram’s associate managing editor. Email [email protected]. Twitter: pam_frampton
