Daily Lessons From My Three Dogs

I was taking part in a webinar a few days ago and, for no apparent reason (the webinar was either inspirational or boring, I suppose), I started thinking about what my three dogs mean to me – and what I learn from them every single day.

As anybody who has dogs will know, they all have their own unique personalities, and my three (who were all adopted from the local rescue back in 2015) are no exception.

And after my wife died unexpectedly about 18 months ago, they are my main reason for living.

So, here are my three furry companions come mentors:

Mini

Mini (or Mini Me, to use her full name), is a black Lab mixed with something – maybe a fox terrier, but I don’t know for certain.

Although she may look like a puppy, she’s actually around five or six years old, and like most Labs, she’s a bundle of energy.

First and foremost, she teaches me to be playful, and to find the fun in life.

It takes very little effort to get her going, and she can transform from a seemingly comatose ball of fur into a whirling Dervish in an instant – the second she thinks you want to play with her, it’s like pushing the pedal to the metal, as it were.

And she teaches me to be inquisitive – she spends a large part of her day in the backyard, doing what I call border patrol, as she paces the fence, looking out for signs of activity and things to bark at. (I hate that she is confined to the yard, but letting her roam loose is dangerous around here because of the Open Range regulations.)

Lastly, she teaches me the value of doing something for others with no expectation of reward, and by this, I mean she often licks my feet, as they overhang the edge of the sofa and footstool where I spend most of my time.

In summer time, believe me, it’s an exquisite feeling when, after going for a drink of water, she comes over and performs her “foot licky” – it’s super-refreshing and relaxing.

And she gets nothing for it – no treats, not even a cuddle, because after she’s done, she goes and has a nap.

To be fair, it’s possible she likes the smell or uses it as a way to obtain salt, but I prefer to think of it as described.

Cruz

Cruz is a Basenji-mix, and my only male dog, and what I’ve learned from him is to stay cool and chill out.

In spite of the fact that Basenjis originated in Africa, he’s the one most affected by the heat (and it does get pretty hot here in Arizona, even though I’m up in the mountains).

So several times a day, from pre-dawn until around post-dusk, he likes to go and cool off by taking a dip in the doggie paddling pool we bought for him a few years ago. (The other two dogs won’t go near water at all.)

The fact Cruz likes to wake me up some mornings by coming and sharing his excess post-dunk water with me rather than shaking it off outside is by the by.

Which brings me to his other main quality – companionship.

Basenjis are apparently known for bonding with one specific person, and even when my wife was alive, Cruz spent most of his time with me.

In summer time, when it’s hot, he does lie on one of the many pillows and cushions on the floor instead of sitting on the settee with me, because it’s cooler down there, but from autumn through spring, he’s up here with me practically all day and night.

He pretty much goes wherever I go and is clearly uncomfortable if he doesn’t know where I am. (None of these three dogs have ever been left completely alone since we adopted them.)

And I think he needs (or wants) my company as much as I want (or need) his.

And from all of this, I am reminded all the time of the importance of having a good friend and somebody to share your life with. (I’m not saying my other two dogs aren’t great companions too – but they are more independent than Cruz is.)

Cassie

Cassie is a type of cattle dog, and she has always been a sensitive, nervous soul.

Even the day I brought her home, it took me an hour to coax her to move from the front yard to the back yard to meet my wife and our other dogs.

What Cassie has taught me more than anything is resilience.

A few years ago, another dog we had at the time initiated a vicious attack on Cassie – it was so bad I thought I would lose her.

Although Cassie is twice the size of the Golden Retriever mix that launched the attack, she seemed helpless.

Unfortunately, Mini joined in, not because I think she’s naturally aggressive or had any sort of issue with Cassie – it seems more likely it was innate pack mentality coming to the fore.

On the plus side, Cruz tried to help Cassie out, but to no avail – he’s too small and timid.

It was truly terrifying – so much so that I still think about how bad it was even now – and there seemed to be nothing I could do to separate them. I tried, of course, and somehow managed to avoid being bitten myself, but it took far too long before I was able to break things up.

Afterward, Cassie was, not surprisingly, cowed – she sat in a corner of the front yard for hours, not moving, and even refusing food, which is totally not like her.

The other dogs were back inside, and the primary attacker was locked in a cage, because we could not risk her and Cassie being together without supervision ever again. (Since then, and after my wife died, I reluctantly sent her back to the rescue to be re-housed, because being locked up all day was no life for her, and having her around was visibly stressful for Cassie, and in fact for me too.)

As dusk was falling, I finally managed to get Cassie back inside and clean her up. Her wounds weren’t that bad, but it was the emotional effects that I worried about.

And yet, within a year, you wouldn’t have thought the incident had ever happened.

She’s bounced back, she’s physically healthy, and she’s certainly no more nervous than she was before the attack. Actually, maybe less so now that the attacker has gone.

Furthermore, she shows forgiveness – a quality that many humans could use.

Even though Mini is one of the two dogs who attacked her (albeit in a less vicious way than the dog who is no longer here), the two of them get along fine now, with no signs of distrust or fear or animosity on either part.

Cassie has one more star quality – unless she’s not dozing, she smiles almost all of the time.

And yes, I know that I’m probably anthropomorphizing here – sometimes dogs do look like they’re smiling when they’re really just hot and panting, but this “smiling” goes on all year round, even in winter when it’s really cold up here in the mountains.

So Cassie makes me realize that you can bounce back from most of the bad things that happen in life, and not just that, but do so with a smile.

In Summary

There are lessons that I think all dogs can teach us, including the importance of being alert for danger (because they often hear or otherwise sense things I do not), and the importance of taking naps.

Yes, as the joke goes, while most children hate being told to take a nap during the day, as you get older (and I’m in my 60s now), they become more and more appealing (and necessary).

So I have no hesitation in saying that my three dogs have been my salvation since my wife died, and I consider it a real privilege to be able to share my life with them.