Doug Bruns

Posts Tagged ‘Dogs’

I Have a Dog That is My Mind.

In Curiosity, Dogs, The Examined Life on August 31, 2010 at 6:57 pm

I have a dog that is my mind. I am easily given to metaphor. My dog, Maggie, is restless. She will not sit down. She paces. She scratches at doors to go out, scratches at doors to come in. She sits down, stands up. Head down she sniffs around, led by her nose. She is my mind. She needs movement. She cannot be still. She requires stimulus. She wears me out. She needs constant attention.

I have a dog that is my mind. She explores. She is curious. She is not content. She wants, searches, for something. She explores and loves to run. She will track down a scent. She will lift her head to the wind and smell. She is insatiable. She will not rest easily. She is demanding. She goes when she should rest. She pursues, when she should give up. I am easily given to metaphor. She is exotic, but common. She comes when called. She loves to be petted. She is a dog.

Where and when do we rest? When do we retire and sit down? How do we silence the noise? When does the leash choke? When does it protect? When is curiosity a danger? (The ancients deemed curiosity a deadly sin.) When and where do we (find) rest? I have a dog that is my mind.

Maggie

In Dogs, Life, Wisdom on June 9, 2010 at 12:58 pm

The Magster

How is it that Maggie, my ten-year old Vizsla, is so excited every morning upon waking up? She’s not a puppy any more, but you wouldn’t know it at 6:00 am, with the sun streaming in and the gulls screeching. As soon as I move, she leaps from her bed and throws herself on the floor at my bedside. She rolls over and arches her back, twisting. Then she rights herself, stretches, squeals, and rolls over again. I struggle to get out of bed amidst her bounding and cavorting. Lastly, she rises, braces her legs in support and flaps her ears. Lately she has taken to letting out a deep resounding howl, as if to announce to the world that she has risen. It is all, frankly, annoying. But learning by repetition can be very annoying, can’t it?

By that I mean, every morning, rain or shine, Maggie performs her routine at my feet. All that excitement and enthusiasm and joy. Every morning that lesson gets drilled into me. You must see where I’m going here. Who musters such happiness at the prospect of every single day? Really, who? My dog, that’s who. Life should be so simply learned as to watch our dogs and emulate them. Unconditional love, curiosity, loyalty, boundless joy. (Yes, I’m only listing the good stuff, not the chewed shoes, the ruined carpet, the surprise in the closet.) And the current lesson: a canine reminder, carpe diem. I’m a slow learner. Maggie’s a good teacher. And her work is not yet done.