Tag Archives: dogs

Come As You Are

13 Feb

My parents have two super cute dogs.

Puppies

They are the most affectionate little guys – all they want is love, love, love, cuddles expressing love and more love.

I think it’s one of the reasons I love dogs so much. They’re so unconditional. They run at you with such abandon. It’s such a delight to walk into my parents house and have them rush to see me, skid to a stop at my feet and wag their tails so hard they almost fall over, such is their joy.

I often think they are how I would be if I wasn’t scared: of rejection, of looking bad, of looking stupid.

Rowlf is nine years old but still a sprightly, excitable dog.

I can't play piano, but I've never had lessons

I can’t play piano, but I’ve never had lessons

Harry was bought after my parents cat died and Rowlf started howling at the moon, missing his feline friend. Harry arrived home as a gorgeous bundle of black and grey fluff and has been tearing around frenetically ever since. He takes on dogs three times his size at the dog park and has a penchant for “walking” other dogs by grabbing their leads and pulling them around the park.
He’s quite the cheeky, energetic character.

As long as my back legs are on the step, I'm technically not out of bounds...

As long as my back legs are on the step, I’m technically not out of bounds…

When I arrive at the house, Rowlf races to the front door and sits at my feet: cuddles and pats are the reward for sitting. Harry runs to the door too, but once he’s completed his initial greeting, he always races off to grab one of his toys and trots back to excitedly share it with me.

This is a really cute behaviour, but it makes me think of all the times I have felt like I need to bring something or do something with the idea that it will be loved and I, along with it.

I notice it’s a cute behaviour of my own: I need to offer to do something or buy something or bring something to make my presence worthwhile.

As though who I am by myself is not enough.

It gets me thinking about how I operate as a human being; that I am operating from a place of lack or trying to make up for my failings.

For me, it’s often in interactions with friends where I will offer more than I’m even able to give. It’s a “like me” mechanism that I’m becoming more and more present to.

The more I’ve watched the dogs play out this behaviour, the more I notice that Rowlf, as the older, alpha dog, simply expects his cuddles and attention. Harry seems to feel he needs to work for it, wait his turn, bring gifts to validate his rewards. In all his running around, he misses out on some of the love and attention I have for him, ready to go, as soon as I walk in the door.

I’m seeing how much I do that in my life: I run around, stress myself out, spread myself too thin, all in the pursuit of making people happy, to help them like me, to be of service.

When really, the love is there, waiting.

I’m not saying I don’t want to be someone who helps or does favours or brings beautiful gifts. I just don’t want to do it from a place of fear that people wouldn’t love me if I didn’t do it.

That coming from my own security, sense of self and love, as a complete human, I have so much to offer, just as I am.

Pups 2

Shiny Song #2

4 May

I have many reasons to celebrate right now…

The biggest is that my parent’s lovely dog, who I’ve been looking after, was hit by a motorbike (scooter) yesterday – and is fine. It was a crazy, yelpy, adrenaline filled evening, that’s for sure. But, THANK GANESHA, he’s ok, albeit a bit bruised and needing more love & cuddles than usual.

Rowlf (black) post emergency vet visit, pumped full of doggy drugs. Harry (grey) with his concerned face.

Rowlf (black) post emergency vet visit, pumped full of doggy drugs. Harry (grey) with his concerned face.

Finally sleeping with some moral support...

Finally sleeping with some moral support…

This Shiny Song is in celebration of near misses and gratitude for what you’ve got.

I’ve played Hermitude’s “Speak of the Devil” mid-argument; it’ a great tension diffuser. And perhaps you’ll find, like I do, it’s impossible not to dance…