Looking back at some photos today, I was struck by how the love of a dog can spark my happy cells.
I smiled when I found a picture of my sister’s Great Dane, Minnie, sitting on my lap. The memory tickled me. She is goofy and regal at the same time; it’s a winning combination. When “Miss Min” chooses to sidle up and take a seat on me, she can stay for as long as she wants. I’m honoured; my comfort is irrelevant.
Our dog Maxx is an anxious fellow. He likes to relax by working his way onto my yoga mat while I try to stretch. He rolls over, elongates himself and offers up his belly. I don’t shoe him away; I always laugh while I stroke him. He knows that I am a suck and before I know it I'm awash in kisses.
When I came across the pics of my dear dog, Dexter, I went deep down memory lane. A rescue, he was loyal from day one. A year later, when we brought home our newborn son, Dex was smitten with the newest member of our family. I mean it when I say, “There wasn’t a mean
bone in his body.” I adored that dog. Never to be forgotten, his portrait hangs on our wall.
Mine or others, bouncy or calm, present or past, dogs have a way of making their way into my heart.
I like the following quote by Roger Caras: "Dogs are not our whole life, but they make our lives whole."