Why I Admire My Dog

Sometimes I wish people, myself included, were more like my dog. We got Wags at the SPCA when she was a puppy. She is now 14 or 15 years old and doesn’t move very fast and can’t see or hear very well. But she is the sweetest mammal on the planet.

Sometimes she wanders away from home and we need to go find her. When we do find her, she always trots towards us with her tail wagging, like maybe she was looking for us. The one time she didn’t come right to me, I knew something was wrong even though I couldn’t see her very well in the dark woods with my flashlight. It turned out that a large flap of skin had been torn from her underside and was dangling on the ground. As I carried her back home, she didn’t protest in any way but just nuzzled her nose up under my chin.

Recently as I was letting them in for the night, our other rambunctious beagle just ran into her and knocked her flat on her side. She didn’t make any fuss but just got back up and trotted in with her tail wagging. When she tries to sniff the cat and gets hissed and swiped at, she just turns around and walks away as if nothing happened. When she doesn’t want to go outside and I make her, she doesn’t resist.

When we get home, she trots out to greet us, tail wagging (at least if she is close enough to hear us drive up which needs to be pretty close). She gracefully endures the constant unwanted attention of our other dog.

I think if there was a canine version of “the fruit of the spirit,” she would be the poster child for it. So today I am going to endeavor to be like Wags – no barking or growling at others, lots of tail-wagging, and just getting back up and continuing on if I get knocked down.