Doggie Snoozing

I had a good chance recently, when I was sick, to closely study the sleepy habits of my dogs. It has led to the discovery that their sleeping habits in some ways mimic their dog walking habits. In other words, when it comes to these two dogs and sleeping, it’s butt first.

Each dog claims her distinct area of the bed and Gabbee being the alpha dog always gets first dibs. Her dibs are always the middle of my back or the back of my knees. Lillee, on the other hand, heads towards the top of the bed curling up somewhere near my head or on top of my head at the top of the pillow, but here’s where “butt first” comes in. While I’m laying on the bed head to foot they lay on the bed foot to head so that their tails are nearest my face. I believe, understanding the nature of dogs, that they intend this to be a great compliment. For dogs everything is about the tail end: greetings, health, any kind of doggie communication is done more through the tail end than through the muzzle. Even a good wag takes the tail end.

So there I am curled up in the middle of my double size bed or rather penned in the middle of my double size bed. (I can’t imagine having a smaller bed but I’m not sure a bigger bed would make any difference.) I have one dog tucked snugly against the center of my back and the other curled up by my shoulder or on top of my head. It is rather comforting when you are shivering with chills to have these two warms bodies snuggled so close to you. I know that they understand instinctively my need for contact and they are more than willing to be the able bodied providers of that contact.

But then, in about a half hour they both get too hot and the movement begins. One shifts down to my knees and the other moves to the cooler top corner of the bed. And, in another half hour another shift takes place. Then, sooner or later, there is the movement to the floor and then to the chair and then back to the bed and then to another place on the bed and then back to the floor and then the chair and then the bed and then... Even this, in my sickness induced sleep would not be that disturbing. There is a gently rhythm to the movement like the tides coming and going. It’s that inevitably sometime during the time when a tail is closest to my face another aspect of tail end activity presents itself wafting gently into my nostrils. In my deep sleep, I stir. I snort slightly and open one eye to find Lillee looking intently at her tail end as if wondering what exactly just happened. It is very clear to me even if it is not to her!

Would I change the habits and the comforts these two dogs bring despite the aromatic gift that I am given with some nightly frequency? Absolutely not. They probably believe that they have just bestowed upon me one of their highest honors because, for them, everything is “butt first.”

Lillee the Huntress

Lillee is a throw back. She is not what a bichon frise should be. She looks the part of a Bichon with her white, soft, slightly curly fur and the tail that curls gently over her back but the ancient art of sitting next to an owner and being quietly stroked and pampered is not part of her makeup. She is a dog not a lap dog. She proves it every day. She is a hunter...the most ancient type of dog.


Her purpose, as she wakes in the morning is not to move from bed to chair quietly following the owner to fulfill the owner’s need to love something living. She does not rise in the morning thinking, “how may I best serve my owner this day?” She rises for the specific purpose of getting outside as quickly as possible and not for the general doggie reason. Her primary task is to take a survey of the yard. What has happened over night? What animals have left their scent behind? Who has come into her domain? Is there a squirrel on the bird feeder that she might surprise if she is quick enough out of the door? Could there be a ground squirrel too far from its hole? She darts to a tree and does a brief inspection ending with a quick pounce in the hopes that she has surprised some furry or feathered creature and then continues on to finish the yardly inspection. This is the worthy purpose that begins Lillee’s day.

It is only when these questions have been satisfied that Lillee will concede to being a lap dog and then only for brief stretches of time. It is always necessary to do timely checks on her realm for any changes that may have occurred but in between those checks she will take moments of relaxation and allow herself to be petted and pampered. She is, after all, the ruler of this one acre kingdom and deserves the pat as an acknowledgement of her importance in the protection of the castle in her kingdom.

Her survey and protection of this yard occasionally results in the capture and sometimes execution of those inhabitants that venture out while she is on her survey. In her role as hunter and protector she can sit totally inanimate for extended periods of time waiting for any creature to dare to cross her path, to come up out of a hole or to stealthily move down a tree. When she has fulfilled that hunter’s instinct, she expects to be acknowledged for her skill. She proudly presents her prize by bringing it into the house to be dropped at her owner’s feet or laid carefully on the carpet to be admired. It is the role of her owner, myself, to duly admire the kill...and then quickly dispose of it before she decides to completely carry out the hunter’s instinct. Exhausted and fulfilled by her role as yard protector supreme she, once again, takes a moment to be a lap dog until it is time to go to bed for night; assured that in the morning her skills and her role as the hunter dog will begin again. She may be bichon but she is hunter!

It is in watching Lillee at her morning tasks that has me wondering what I would be like if I did not live according to the roles assigned to me. She has no sense of her heritage only her sense of calling and that calling is her primary purpose in life. Is there a way to live, I wonder, as if I were not daughter, mother, woman, sister, aunt, ancestor to the Applachians and all the other stories that seem to make up parts of me; stories that through the years have defined me to me. What if I simply got up in the morning and raced to fulfill my purpose in life as Lillee does? Would I be filled with the joy and commitment that I sense in Lillee every morning? It is hard to begin to imagine who I would be and what I would be like if I were not defined by the roles and stories and even by my name. All these aspects lend structure to who I think of as myself in the way that the body lends a structure to the soul. And, this is where I pause. The soul has so much more freedom when it is not bound by a body. Would I be able to enjoy that freedom if I were not caught up in who this body is as defined by that which has been named Deborah? Is it possible to live as Lillee does without the sense and heritage of being Bichon and simply be “dog.” As my mind tries to wrap itself around this concept, there is a moment when I grasp fully what this might be like and then, like the ground squirrels Lillee chases, it slips into a hole. I think this lack of structure might be worth sitting inanimately, as Lillee does, patiently waiting for my ground squirrel to appear out of the hole again so that it may be captured. Or perhaps it is more the sense of just doing out of the being that Lillee teaches me each morning...just simply do what I was meant to be and let the ground squirrels appear at the perfect moments.

dog walking

5/27/09

Today I watched a man running on the sidewalk. He was clearly a newbie. There was little grace in his running style. His face showed the exertion. It is once again spring and those would be runners/weight loss aspirers are back pounding the pavement. It is not as if I would show any grace if I decided to start running. I’m definitely a walker preferably in nature on the cushioned paths of dirt or grass not the non-forgiving surface of cement.

Each morning I go walking with my dogs who remind me every morning that this walk is a necessity for their well being. With dogs, this is definitely not a power walk. This is a sniff every blade of grass, pee on every scent some other dog has left behind, dawdle and enjoy the stroll kind of walk. They stick their muzzles deep into the grass like it is a freshly cut bouquet of flowers, taking in every possible scent that is covering every stem of that grass. Undoubtedly there are hundreds of scents. When I contemplate how many dogs must pass this same way every day and every one of those dogs stopping at exactly that same spot and doing exactly what my dogs are doing, I wonder if I’m missing something in having such a dulled olfactory sense. What would it be like, I wonder, to be able to scent every human that has walked this same path before me? What would I know about those humans from the scents? Could I tell how big they are? Would I know what they had eaten for their meals?

As they stop for this doggie intimate moment, I stop. I take a moment to look around, breathe deeply, admire the colors of the leaves of the trees against the backdrop of the sky. I can feel my shoulders drop a few inches as the thoughts and plans of the day drop off my shoulders for a moment. I am reminded to live in the moment for just this moment. I can almost hear Eckhart Tolle and Oprah talking about living in the moment as I stop to sniff too. So for countless times during the course of this necessary walk for the dogs I stop and breathe deeply and appreciate the moment. I realize how grateful I am that I am not aspiring to be a springtime runner and how grateful I am that my dogs find it necessary to take this walk every morning. It gives me a chance to stick my muzzle in the air and just breathe deeply.