Notes from a Small Dog

dogputerShe’s a bit under the weather at present, so I thought I’d give her a break and write today’s blog for her. She found the prospect of having to walk to the village shop at six o’clock this morning less than appealing. Pitch black, cold, driving rain… but the alternative was no coffee, and after the night she had, that was clearly not an option. And of course, I wanted to take her for a walk. There is something rather wonderful in that time of morning when most of the world is asleep, and the chill freshness beads on my fur and sweeps away the cobwebs of night. There is something immediate and very real in the presence of the world at that time of morning, a sense of quiet stirring and anticipation. You can almost feel it stretch and yawn as your clocks tick from wakeful night to busyness.

Her computer had been on for a while, of course, and her mind, as we walked, was flitting between applications, wishing she had a pencil in her pocket to make notes and capture the elusive thoughts.

Me, I’m as energetic and excited as if it were the first morning of the world, and dart from scent to scent, chasing every rustle and glistening movement in the leaf litter. As I watched her, she shook off the thoughts and moved into the moment with me, catching something of my joy in the adventure of the new day as her eyes shone and she smiled at me. In the darkness, that was almost all I could see of her, bundled as she was in coat and scarf. We dogs are better equipped than you humans for this weather.

christmasNow I am flopped at her feet, exuding a vague aroma of wet fur and leaves, not the most pleasant fragrance for her I think, but a happy one. For me, life is all about where I am. And right now that is warm and cosy, with my head on her feet and the traces of the morning on mine. When I meet her eyes she smiles at me and I can feel her love. But you often seem to be so far away, your minds wander in speculation and imagination, I think. You forget about just living and enjoying the time that is now.

I look after her as best I can. I keep an eye on the time and make
sure she doesn’t forget my dinner. I take her for walks so she gets some fresh air and keep her supplied with toys and balls. I throw Anithem for her to play fetch. When she has been sitting too long at the machine in the corner, I will dive around the room play fighting toys to make her laugh, or I put my head on her knee till she stops for a cuddle. And if that doesn’t work, I can always distract her by chewing gently on a sleeve. It took me a while to master that one. The first few months I managed to chew holes in them… but now I can just capture them and chew them soggy and keep her hands on my ears.

Meanwhile she sits at the square thing and communicates with friends who are far away or loses touch with me in the words she writes. She has explained it all to me, of course. I don’t know if she realises how much I understand, but I think she just misses having voices in the house sometimes now they have all gone and talks to me anyway. She sings too, when she’s happy. I wish she wouldn’t.
computerThis technology stuff seems a wonderful thing. She tells me you
have such access to information, you make friends and keep in touch instantly. I watch her emotions change as she laughs and cries sometimes. Then I see her tapping away and wonder how much is being hidden behind what she writes. She can’t hide from me, of course. I see her.  It doesn’t matter to me if she is wrapped in the fluffy dressing gown or wearing a suit, I can see beyond the surface to who she is. I can feel her emotions no matter what she says or which words she chooses. To me she just is.

We dogs do not hide. We are. We see you and feel you, we know your flaws. We know your hearts and we love you as you really are, not as you would like to be, or think you should be. We want little more than your hands in our fur and a smile in your eyes.

Maybe us dogs could give you paws for thought…?

Now if you’ll excuse me, I think I hear the postman ….

Love, Ani.

postman

About Sue Vincent

Sue Vincent is a Yorkshire-born writer and one of the Directors of The Silent Eye, a modern Mystery School. She writes alone and with Stuart France, exploring ancient myths, the mysterious landscape of Albion and the inner journey of the soul. Find out more at France and Vincent. She is owned by a small dog who also blogs. Follow her at scvincent.com and on Twitter @SCVincent. Find her books on Goodreads and follow her on Amazon worldwide to find out about new releases and offers. Email: findme@scvincent.com.
This entry was posted in Life, Love and Laughter, Spirituality, The Silent Eye and tagged , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

6 Responses to Notes from a Small Dog

  1. fransiweinstein says:

    Love this.

    Like

  2. noir33 says:

    with this post, you have really “gone to the dogs”……

    Like

  3. Running Elk says:

    Excellent speller for a sma’ dug… 😀

    Like

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