Joy and Dogs

I am very fortunate to work at home so I fit taking care of Joe’s with my schedule. Sometimes I get so busy that I have to admit Joe gets cursory care – two short walks of ten minutes each, two meals and one 15 minute play session. The door to the backyard is only steps away from my desk so he goes outside whenever he likes.

I try to feel ok about this because I know most people would kill to be able to give their dog the cursory care I give on my busiest days. But deep down I know I could do a lot more and a lot more often. I love the guy but I’m still entrenched in my own habits. I’ve made room for a puppy in my life, have made many adjustments, but I know I come nowhere near the spiritual attentiveness and devotion of those monks in New Skete. And not just where taking care of dogs are concerned.

Today after finishing my project I set about some garden work; I’d promised B I’d get to it. He’d bought some bags of cedar chips for the area where Joe likes to take a squat. This area is covered with stringy, uneven, trailing Buttercup, which makes poo patrol messier than it needs to be. With the even surface of the cedar and it’s odor fighting properties it should be better for all involved.

Joe bounced along by my side as I first cleared the area. Fortunately, he’s uninterested in his poo so there were no ugly accidents. Afterwards, I grabbed the heavy and ungainly bag of cedar and dragged it behind me. I’m small but the bag was not, so it was slow going even though the bag wasn’t heavy.

Something about this took Joe’s fancy and he burst into a gallop, coursing around the yard like he was on fire. As I was pulled the bag into place - Wham! - Joe threw himself at the bag at full speed. The cedar bag absorbed much of the force and neither of us was hurt. I turned around to see him spinning away at top speed. As I dumped the fragrant, rich red cedar onto the lawn Joe reappeared and dove into the pile headfirst. Then with a snort he tunneled through it. This continued with all 5 bags, in more or less the same order.

With the last bag, I stopped to wipe my forehead and here came Joe hurtling pell-mell towards me. His wide eyes, doggy-laugh, and frenzied paws all came churning at me. I realized he was in an absolute spasm of joy – unadulterated, unmodulated, unmediated joy.

There are other things I could do with him, equally novel from his point of view just to elicit this joy. Although it wouldn’t always work because what strikes his fancy is known to him alone. I don’t really try to find out what would send him into paroxysms of rapture – and I pretty easily could.

This made me think about how often I experience joy. I wonder if most of us by adulthood spend much of our time in a low frequency contentment. How much of joy is the decision to dive into the silly beauty of ordinary moments? Why don’t we make joy a priority when nothing is more refreshing or gives daily life more flavor, and even perhaps meaning.

So, now I am trying to find ways to give Joe and myself a bit of the ineffable beauty of stupid joy.