Love your people like you love your dogs….

I was sitting on the floor in front of the fireplace reading one of the many spiritual tomes that currently adorn my nightstand.  My two dogs were lying on either side of me; so peaceful and sweet and relaxed.  As I was rubbing Junior’s belly it occurred to me that if I were to treat all of the humans I encounter with the same patience and forgiveness that I afford my dogs, my world might change.

I have two Jack Russell Terriers, Chili and Junior and have had various numbers of JRTs in the house for over 20 years.  They can be a handful, but I love their spirit and athleticism and sense of humor.  They require a fair amount of training and lots of praise and patience.

We’ve always used rewards much more than punishment and we allow them their dogisms; chasing squirrels (within reason), killing small rodents (again, not encouraging massacres), tugging, chewing, wrestling, digging, occasional barking binges.  At our house, they are allowed on the furniture and one sleeps in the bed. I just let them fulfill their nature and ‘be’.

As with humans, there are occasional bumps in the road.  A couple of months ago they got into a fight to the death over some food and I foolishly got in the middle of it and ended up in the ER getting intravenous antibiotics due to a badly infected dog bite.   Chili, the perp, was unapologetic, while Junior seemed upset about the fight and my injury.  Me?  I was pissed that I was dumb enough to get into the middle of the rumble knowing that the dogs wouldn’t have any idea who they were biting.

I forgave and moved on.  After massive doses of Levaquin and Flagyl.

But, what if that was one of my ‘people’?  What if during a rough stretch or an emotionally raw moment, someone sliced me open with a thoughtless comment or action?  Would I be so forgiving of their human-ness?  Doubtful.  The anger and hurt would fester like my dog bite, but it would not heal.  It would calcify into at best, a checkmark on their permanent record or at worst, a hardcore grudge.  Maybe even hatred.

I hear your cries.  “But, Jane! Our dogs love us unconditionally and they don’t know any better.  People are different. People know what’s right and wrong!!”

My reply is:  so what.  We’ve all been that person.  The thoughtless one who said something cruel or let someone down or lashed out in anger or frustration.  That is us being human. We all have those moments and I am going to try and remember that next time I want to toss out a ‘screw you’ to someone that I feel has wronged me.

Every religion and spiritual path in the universe teaches us two things: Love and forgive your fellow humans.  Period.  So, no excuses about how dogs are nicer than people.  You should have been at my house when Chili was clamped onto my wrist like a Great White.  Or watched them round up and murder the foreign squirrel in our house.  That is their nature and we allow it and forgive it.  Let’s try it with each other.

I’ll go first…and I hope that you will in turn, return that grace to me next time I say or do something stupid or hurtful.   Trust me, it won’t be long…..

Dog spelled backwards…..

Yesterday, my beautiful boy-dog Junior chewed up my prescription reading glasses for the second time in a month.  I was extremely irritated with him for the better part of the day and then I realized that all of us are not defined by our mistakes and poor judgement.  I know that I routinely chew up plenty of other people’s stuff and am grateful for their forgiveness.

So, I decided to re-post this from last fall to remind me that Junior’s qualities far outweigh his naughty tendencies.

Our dog Junior turns 1 year-old on Sunday.  My husband and I are throwing him a little party, mostly so that we can have an excuse for dessert, but there’s another reason:  I want to celebrate his spirit.  Junior has a zest for life.

We’ve had a lot of dogs over the years and like people, they’ve all had distinct personalities.  Skelo was all business, Kodiak liked to wander, Samson worried, Chili is a pleaser and then there was Feta.  She was a 12-pound,  black and white Jack Russell Terrier with a massive personality.  There was no dog too big to challenge, no person that she couldn’t charm, no hole too deep for her to explore and no naughty trick that she wouldn’t try.

Feta was one of those dogs that you never forget and never get over losing.  She was fierce with the local wildlife, but so sweet with kids and if you were sick, she nestled in next to you and wouldn’t leave until you were well.   The most important part of Feta’s life was fun; she wanted to have it and there was no consequence too severe to curb her high jinks.  Whether she was swatted, yelled at, chased with a broom, or banished to her crate, she’d come right back, look you in the eye and do exactly what she wanted to do.

She died a little over 4 years ago at the age of 15 and I’ve written about my regret at letting her linger too long.  The last year of her life contained very little in the way of fun or even pleasure.  She wasted away, which is the last thing her little soul would have wanted.  I think about her everyday and so when my friend sent me a photo of a little black and white male Jack Russell from her latest litter, I was smitten.

He looked so much like Feta in the photos that we started calling him “Feta, Junior”.  When he came home with us, he was christened Junior.  Although he physically resembles his namesake, he is much sweeter than Feta and lacks her snarkiness around other dogs, but he has her sense of humor and fun.  My husband and I like to say that Junior is “Feta without the f**k you attitude.”

Junior is our ‘free spirit’  dog.  He will suddenly zoom around the yard in circles, with a canine grin on his face.  He’s always busy; dragging a log, digging a hole, shredding tissue, flipping a stick in the air, taunting his housemate, Chili.  Junior loves to swim so much that we bought him a kiddie pool that he’ll splash in for hours.

During a recent trip to Michigan, while we sat on the dock at a friend’s lake house, Junior ran in circles, detoured into the water, paddled around, ran out of the water, spied the tetherball court, punched the ball with his nose until it wound around the poll, then he unwound the ball, ran back into the water, and on and on for an hour.  If it looks fun, he does it.

That’s what I love about him; it’s what I envy about him. Junior has no internal editor saying “don’t do that, you’ll look silly”.  He just does.  He lives completely in the moment.  Aside from his habit of murdering rodents, he could be a pretty good Buddhist.  I want to be Junior; he’s my zen, hippie hero.

We haven’t had a birthday celebration for a dog since Feta’s first birthday.  We just didn’t figure any of them would ‘get it’.  Happy Birthday, Junior.  Feta would approve….and then she’d steal your cake.

Dog spelled backwards…..

Our dog Junior turns 1 year-old on Sunday.  My husband and I are throwing him a little party, mostly so that we can have an excuse for dessert, but there’s another reason:  I want to celebrate his spirit.  Junior has a zest for life.

We’ve had a lot of dogs over the years and like people, they’ve all had distinct personalities.  Skelo was all business, Kodiak liked to wander, Samson worried, Chili is a pleaser and then there was Feta.  She was a 12-pound,  black and white Jack Russell Terrier with a massive personality.  There was no dog too big to challenge, no person that she couldn’t charm, no hole too deep for her to explore and no naughty trick that she wouldn’t try.

Feta was one of those dogs that you never forget and never get over losing.  She was fierce with the local wildlife, but so sweet with kids and if you were sick, she nestled in next to you and wouldn’t leave until you were well.   The most important part of Feta’s life was fun; she wanted to have it and there was no consequence too severe to curb her high jinks.  Whether she was swatted, yelled at, chased with a broom, or banished to her crate, she’d come right back, look you in the eye and do exactly what she wanted to do.

She died a little over 4 years ago at the age of 15 and I’ve written about my regret at letting her linger too long.  The last year of her life contained very little in the way of fun or even pleasure.  She wasted away, which is the last thing her little soul would have wanted.  I think about her everyday and so when my friend sent me a photo of a little black and white male Jack Russell from her latest litter, I was smitten.

He looked so much like Feta in the photos that we started calling him “Feta, Junior”.  When he came home with us, he was christened Junior.  Although he physically resembles his namesake, he is much sweeter than Feta and lacks her snarkiness around other dogs, but he has her sense of humor and fun.  My husband and I like to say that Junior is “Feta without the f**k you attitude.”

Junior is our ‘free spirit’  dog.  He will suddenly zoom around the yard in circles, with a canine grin on his face.  He’s always busy; dragging a log, digging a hole, shredding tissue, flipping a stick in the air, taunting his housemate, Chili.  Junior loves to swim so much that we bought him a kiddie pool that he’ll splash in for hours.

During a recent trip to Michigan, while we sat on the dock at a friend’s lake house, Junior ran in circles, detoured into the water, paddled around, ran out of the water, spied the tetherball court, punched the ball with his nose until it wound around the poll, then he unwound the ball, ran back into the water, and on and on for an hour.  If it looks fun, he does it.

That’s what I love about him; it’s what I envy about him. Junior has no internal editor saying “don’t do that, you’ll look silly”.  He just does.  He lives completely in the moment.  Aside from his habit of murdering rodents, he could be a pretty good Buddhist.  I want to be Junior; he’s my zen, hippie hero.

We haven’t had a birthday celebration for a dog since Feta’s first birthday.  We just didn’t figure any of them would ‘get it’.  Happy Birthday, Junior.  Feta would approve….and then she’d steal your cake.

Awwwwwwww……..

I’m at a loss.  I need to write about something, but all I have rattling around are complaints, irritations, serious matters that would only make all of us feel like crap, when that’s the last thing we need.  I know what the problem is:  The News.  When I spend too much time on current affairs and news and politics, everything becomes so humorless and oppressive; so life or death, so serious!  I’m a news and politics junkie.  I love the intrigue, the strategy, the plotting.   But, if I consume too much of this stuff, I  get a  little crazed, a bit conspiratorial; the worst of it is that I begin to lose hope, to feel helpless and finally, kind of depressed.  So, rather than spew all of this out onto the page and drag you all down with me, I’ve decided to write about something a little more fun:  my dog.

I adore my dog.  She brings me more joy than just about any living creature I’ve ever met and she makes me laugh.  If Ellen DeGeneres were a dog, she would live in my house and be a Jack Russell Terrier named Chili.

She’s our third Jack Russell; the other two have passed on to the rolling meadows full of fat, slow moving rodents and big, cushy sofas of Dog Heaven, but they were funny, too.  Feta, had an obnoxious  stand-up comic schtick.  She didn’t care who she was entertaining, as long as she had everyone’s full attention.  Her sure-fire bit was to hump my leg in public and if that failed, she’d start a fight with a much bigger dog.  Samson was amusing in a goofy,   loopy kind of way, but as I look back, it may have had more to do with his taste for beer, than a sense of humor.

But, Chili is only interested in amusing my husband and me and I’m a sucker for her antics.  One of her greatest hits is the way she jumps up on our bed and rolls around on her back, snuffling and grunting and groaning.  If I don’t respond with a chuckle within 20 seconds, she ups the noise and wiggle level substantially, until she gets a laugh.  Then, she grins at me.  She does, too!

Her comic timing is masterful when we dress her in one of her coats.  For the record, I’m not one of those nutty people who dresses up my dog for fun;  we live in the mountains, and when it’s 0 or below, she needs a coat.  Once the coat is on, she stands as still as a statue, letting us know that her dignity has been gravely wounded.  She has been known to stand like this for 10 minutes or more, to make her point.  Once we’re out the door,  she spends a good part of the walk rolling on hard-pack snow, trying to rub the coat off.  She makes sure to roll directly in front of us, to reinforce how much she hates playing dress-up.  Miss Chili is particularly mortified if we come upon another dog while she’s all gussied up, and will go back into statue pose, and accessorizes with bared teeth and a growl.

So, what’s my point?  This is getting as bad as a ‘cute kid’ story, that only a parent cares about, right?  I guess my point is that we love our pets because they are goofy in a way that most of us grown-ups find irritating in other grown-ups.  Being with kids and pets, allows us to shed a few inhibitions (come on admit it; you talk baby talk to your pets…in private) and loosen up.   By the way, if you are someone who has a pet that you never interact with, please leave my blog immediately, as you are a gigantic ass.

This is hardly an earth-shattering revelation about pets, but I just wanted an excuse to post photos of my dog Chili, a.k.a. “the cutest dog in the world”.  Don’t even try it; your dog is NOT cuter.