Mia the yogi master

Mia is the Giant Schnauzer that has moved in on the other side of the circle. She is a deep gorgeous black. She walks with a gentle knowing. It is not a Doberman or German Shepherd walk that carries with it a certain authority. It is not a Siberian Husky walk which has a distinct focus with the eyes gazing steadily forward. And it is not a defensive walk for which her breed is known. Instead, Mia places her paws on the road with a gentleness and a sureness that states that she knows exactly her place in the world and that she is content being in that place.

My dogs react to that knowing. They don’t start barking at her as is their wont with other big dogs. It is a general rule of thumb that small dogs feel the necessity to bark at big dogs. What they don’t have in size, small dogs make up for in sound. But with Mia it is different. They approach Mia with the same gentleness that she exudes. Despite the significant difference in sizes, they quietly extend to each other the usual doggie courtesies. Chit chat is exchanged between myself and Mia’s owner while the dogs are involved in their communication and then everyone moves on. It is an astonishing encounter. If it had happened only the one time, then it could perhaps be written off as odd but it has happened three times now.

In our small neighborhood circle I know the people more by the dogs they own than by the owners themselves. I suppose that makes quite a statement about me but that fact is that when I’m walking my dogs, it is good to know where there are potential pitfalls. Next door to my house is Rocky, a playful Doberman mix with whom my dogs love to exchange greetings through the fence. At the first curve in the circle is the Mini Schnauzer who has the same small dog penchant that my dogs have. Generally he is out in his front yard around 7 in the morning so that’s not a good time to go by his house unless I want to intentionally wake the neighbors. Next door to the Mini Schnauzer is an elderly Yorkie and a Westie who usually get their walk around 6:30 in the morning. By unspoken agreement their owner and myself go different ways. Four small dogs trying to prove they’re big at 6:30 am is just not something a small neighborhood could get excited about. If by chance, we do see each other, one of us politely waits in the distance until an alternate route can be found by one of us. Down the street from them is the Welsh terrier; a pretty dog that frequently looks bewildered by my dogs’ response to her. Mia lives across from the Welsh. The neighborhood also includes a German Shepherd and two Pomeranians. It is nice mix of big and small and it’s nice that so many of the people in the circle love dogs.

Gabbee, Lillee, and I not only take the walk around the circle but we frequently take a mile walk that takes us through difference neighborhoods. We regularly meet a variety of dogs most of whom get the usual small dog bark. However, every time we come upon Mia it is with stillness and silence. The general perception of Mia would be one of a giant guard dog intent on defending her property. However, as she gallops across the yard to greet my dogs, no one, least of all my dogs feel fear. Mia doesn’t bark. She simply comes to a stop and waits. My dogs don’t bark. They simply stand and sniff. I simply stand in wonderment. It leaves me wondering if there is such as thing as a centeredness in dogs, the kind that we search for as humans.

Does Mia come by that naturally? Is her own environment that peace filled that she carries it out into the world? What is it in Mia that allows this to happen? Why are my dogs so different around her? There is one thing that is clear to me, in the midst of this wonderment. Mia is a yogi master and I await my opportunity to sit at her paws and learn.