When a Strange Dog Greets You Like a Long-lost Friend
It doesn’t happen frequently — maybe twice in my last 50 trips to the off-leash dog park. I’ll be walking along as my American Bulldog Slater bounds through the tall grass nearby. Another dog, one I don’t yet know, runs directly to me, stops, leans into my leg and looks up at me like he’s known me for years. Does that ever happen to you? I hope so.
I respond with a warm rub of his head and say, “Hi buddy. It’s good to see you, too!” I don’t know this pooch, but I like to imagine that he’s somehow sure that I’m a good guy and a safe bet for a heart-felt ear-scratch.
Last time it happened, I thought maybe this lovable golden retriever who stopped by for a quick hello greets everyone this way. I think that’s awesome, as well. Spread love evenly, enthusiastically, every chance he gets. But as he continued through the crowded park, I didn’t see him engage any other humans that way. Just me — as far as I know. Feels good to be singled out for special recognition.
Just so you know, that pooch wasn’t lost or looking for his human. As soon as that golden wandered off, his human walked by and smiled, “Looks like you made a new friend.” I smiled back and thought, “Maybe I just met an old friend.”
I tend to linger on the hope that somehow Phoebe gave these new-friend dogs an all-clear. “Feebs” was a fabulous red heeler mix who died after blessing our family for 14 years. Maybe by way of canine telepathy or some post-mortal dog language, Phoebe finds a way to check-in with me. Maybe she feels responsible to keep in touch, to remind me that I’m an alright guy; and this is her way of nipping my heels, just like when she was young. Keeping us in line, even as we sat on the patio.
Continuing on our dog park walk, Slater is well-behaved — not losing his mind or pinning other dogs like a pro-wrestler. He’s moved past that rowdiness for the most part. So I continue to wonder: was that dog visit just a friendly pooch looking for a head-rub? Probably. But it feels better to imagine that our connections last beyond this life. It’s assuring to believe in angels — even if they have dog breath. But if that occasional dog visit truly is a message, what is the message?
I’m going to say that these “dog angels” (like any angels) are telling us what we most need to hear. Whatever that is. Dog messengers on their warm, brief and kind missions clearly can’t speak my language. If they could, would I listen? Instead, I’ll choose to believe that the engaged moment — where this friendly dog stopped to greet me — was made for me to focus. Focus, but not dwell or worry. Focus me on my next step.
In my case, I took that as an encouragement to go ahead and do what some of my human friends have kindly encouraged me to do for years now. Re-focus on writing. Create more. Create constructively. Start a blog. “Use your skills for good.”
Well, here we are. After many thousands of words written for commercial purposes — to convince, to persuade, to change, to sell and profit. This is my first blog post.
Thanks, Feebs.
