Love Dogs

One night a man was crying Allah! Allah!

His lips grew sweet with the praising,

until a cynic said,  "So!

I have heard you calling out, but have you ever

gotten any response?"

The man had no answer for that.

He quit praying and fell into a confused sleep.

He dreamed he saw Khidr, the guide of souls,

in a thick, green foliage.

"Why did you stop praising?" “Because 

I've never heard anything back."

"This longing you express 

is the return message."

The grief you cry out from

draws you toward union.

Your pure sadness 

that wants help

is the secret cup.

Listen to the moan of a dog for its master.

That whining is the connection.

There are love dogs 

no one knows the names of.

Give your life 

to be one of them.

(Rumi, translated by Coleman Barks, from The Essential Rumi.)

With characteristic genius, Rumi uses our relationship with dogs to teach about the sacred nature of longing. Our longing is our prayer; our longing is our hope for what can be; our longing is our connection to one another and to God. If your world includes the companionship of dogs, you no doubt understand why Rumi summons these particular creatures to convey a lesson for the soul.

Until summer before last, my life was graced by the sweet, yet quite independent, presence of a beautiful, black cat named Scout. She and I were together for almost 21 years when she finally let me know it was her time to leave. A lot of my growing up happened in those years, and Scout maintained a steady and calming presence through the accompanying ups and downs. Sometimes it seemed she even kept vigil, when during my darkest nights I would find her sitting upright in the threshold of my bedroom door, just watching me.

So it was surprising when only three weeks after Scout passed, I found myself at the local animal shelter with a tiny, sleeping puppy curled up in my arms. At only ten weeks, he’d already been abandoned, separated from his mother and then his brother; had undergone surgeries, and endless pokings and proddings. Yet this little guy, so withdrawn that I was advised he needed shyness classes, had entered my heart so completely there was no place he was going other than home, with me.

In honor of Scout, and his own quiet nature, I named him Boo Radley. Boo. In just a handful of minutes he had already taught me that, even in grief, my heart has the capacity to bloom again with love. And perhaps because of his shyness, he demonstrates that it’s ok to trust my instincts about who I let close and who might even deserve a bit of a growl. But once discernment leads to love, Boo’s loyalty and affection know no bounds.

While visiting our local dog park a year ago this month, Boo ran to another dog as if he had found his longest lost friend. This sweet, funny dog immediately hopped into my lap, thereby declaring his place of belonging. Billy. Sweet William. Bill.  This dog, I call “The Mayor.” Different from Boo’s reserved ways, Billy wants to meet every person and every dog. Kisses for every one!

Billy had recently been rescued from the “red tag” of euthanasia by an angel of a woman named Marie. Three years old or so, he was underweight and scared, and had a series of deep scars traveling down the length of his spine. Though clearly hurt in his past, Billy continues to give as much love as he possibly can to any dog or person who will receive his amorous advances.

During our visits to dog beach, The Mayor stops at each gathering along the way. He plops himself down to share a few moments of love before moving along to the next unsuspecting gathering. More than once, I’ve been asked if they could take my Bill home. He just has a way about him.

And with that loving way and his empathy to pain and suffering, Sweet William is a Godsend of comfort in times of sadness or stress. He snuggles his warm, little body close to my heart and breathes. He breathes, steady and deep, helping bring my own system back to balance.

So now we’re a family, we three affectionate and (mostly) happy creatures. Their presence in my life gets me out into nature at the start of each day, smelling flowers, watching seabirds and saying hello to our neighbors. My boys teach me about fun and adventure, boundaries and trust. They teach me about loyalty. They teach me about love.

Last night when I arrived home, they danced and pranced in their usual greeting. As they rolled onto their backs for kisses on their bellies, I was struck by their unabashed enthusiasm to receive love and affection. And I am overcome with gratitude to be received in this way.

Ultimately, these little beings with their great, big hearts teach me how good and right and true it is to love exuberantly and with all my heart.

Love dogs. May I give my life to be one of them.