Luke and the obtuse angle

Lessons learned from my dogs (and there are many)

Hello readers. As we enter another weekend, there is much to reflect on. The evil and chaos in the world. The individual responses that we have to that evil is based upon our own belief systems and life experiences. There has been ample evidence of the different responses out there. How we choose to respond is highly personal. I treat it like other things in my life that are outside of my control and are largely not within my understanding or life experience—I go to the Serenity Prayer. God grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, the courage to change the things I can, and the wisdom to know the difference. I use it repeatedly and effectively when I’m presented with situations over which I have no control. It helps me keep my reponse measured and personal, which is all I can do.

Today I’m traveling back from a week-long consulting gig with a spiritual organization that I’m working with. They’re based in Burlington, VT and it’s been a wonderful trip to fall foliage. I’m ready to go home. I wanted to resurface a short essay that most of you never saw. It’s about my dogs. Please enjoy.

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There has been plenty of (most) days I ask myself what my dogs must be thinking. I have seen evidence that they are able to feel and think. Mostly I’m just curious. Are they grateful for the way I spoil them? Do they feel safe? Do they miss me when I’m gone?

Each of my four current rescue dogs have distinct personalities. Not knowing many details about their early puppyhood before I took them in, they nevertheless demonstrate the differences to me every day. There is no mistaking which one is talking to me or trying to get my attention. No question that each has his own demands and needs.

Oliver is the senior member of the current pack. A tall, lanky mix of a sharp black and brown head like a Doberman, a coat like a German Shepherd, but with dainty feet as if there’s some terrier mixed in. Serene and aloof in ways unlike the others. While the other three knuckleheads are wrestling and mouthing each other, Ollie lies in the grass a few yards away seemingly ignoring the fuss…as if he can’t be bothered. But when things get too rowdy or too close, he’ll snap off an authoritative bark to let them know that they’re encroaching on his chill.

Willie is an equal mix of fear and aggro. Much like humans who were raised with some level of violence or trauma, he’s quick to snap to attention at the slightest perceived threat or loud noise. He’s the first to defend us and the one that sticks the closest to me physically…never more than a step or two away if he can help it. At 90 lbs with a Catahoula/Pit Bull mix and a gorgeous brindle, he looks the part of the defender.

Mikey is an odd mix. My most recent rescue, he’s a short-haired brown mix with a lot of hound dog in him. The sweetest face and temperament you’d ever want, but if you ever cross him, he’ll drop you like a bad habit. Mikey puts 110% into everything he does…chasing, playing, eating, sleeping, and cuddling. The most athletic of the four with a racing thoroughbred’s stride and speed.

Then there’s Luke. The enigmatic Happy-go-Lukie. Part Collie…part Beagle…all love. With full knowledge of his last-place ranking in the pecking order, Luke makes up for it by being everyone’s favorite play-buddy. Without a threatening bone in his body, he is nonetheless the activator of the pack. First to bark at the moon or squirrels or reflections in the mirror. As if he’s saying; “look you guys hey guys look you don’t want to miss this…see what I showed you?” Luke has that stride and gait that reminds me of a long-bed pickup truck with a bent frame…he goes kind of sideways and forward at the same time…caddy wompus.

When the other three dogs go one way, Lukie goes the other. We have a long stretch of fence at the front of our property that faces the country lane that we live on. Our usual assortment of neighborhood visitors, our walkers and bike riders, mail delivery person and of course the Fed Ex, UPS, and Amazon folks all know our pack. Mikey always has a fresh Penn tennis ball firmly chomped. Willie is the most vocal and is often bouncing on and off the fence putting on his best intimidator look and sound. Ollie saunters over from his nap…not always…to see what the fuss is about. Luke runs counter to all of it. If the other 3 are moving right to left following the jogger, Luke goes left to right.

There are times every single day where I’m surprised by Luke and his obtuse angles. Though I’m fully expecting it, he’ll still surprise me. They all hear a fox or see a squirrel and they’re off…except Luke crosses my path in a totally different way as if his inner GPS has the secret back route mapped. Or I’ll hear the dogs outside when I’m inside as I navigate the house, and suddenly there’s Lukie right behind me as I pivot. I’m usually alerted by the tinkling sound of their tags dangling from their collars, but Luke has a stealth mode equal to his broadcast mode.

Among all of the daily gifts and lessons I receive from my 4-legged family, here’s two I’ve learned from Lukie. Sometimes taking a different angle gets you to a solution faster or just, well…better. More importantly is the gift of being present in the moment. Luke has a way of looking at me (actually they all do, he’s just better at it). Luke’s gaze says “HERE I AM. I’m going to sit right here and stare at you until you engage me.” It works 100% of the time. A scratch on the head and he’s satisfied that I’ve checked out from my busy mind for just a moment to see the world as it is right this minute with Luke in it.

Thank you boys.