Watching dogs engage with the world, hearing the gravelly crunch of shoe steps, feeling breath move in and out of my lungs. These things are essential. It is a primal comfort, purpose and belonging.

I’ve come to depend on walking like eating and sleeping and loving. It keeps me healthy, in shape. More importantly, it sets the stage for slaying inner demons, clearing clogged thoughts, and pumping attention toward neglected psychic chambers.

It’s a process, daily dog walks from home. Checking the skies and air temp, deciding what gear to wear, harnessing the canines, filling pockets with treats, poop bags, maybe a snot rag on cold days. Sitting on the back steps lacing up shoes or boots while furry legs scramble about in anticipation. Clipping on the leashes, opening the gate, holding on tight. Remaining loose and flexible in those first couple of blocks when pent up energies since our last roam come out chaotically in leaps, spurts, tangled leashes, and rambunctious desires to each go in a different direction.

As blocks spread into miles including stretches of off-leash sprints and spars, we settle into a rhythm. Inner reflections then take priority, wandering as they do. Time to remember who I am, what matters most, and what to leave on the sidewalk, trail, and road.

By the time home is again in site, our steps are steady. All the tangles have been worked out. The leashes and harnesses come off and are hung on their hooks. Shoes come off and everyone’s paws get wiped. Ready for re-entry.

Sure, I know, it’s part of the deal right? We take care of them, and they respect our ways. We control them and they get love, food, and shelter. It’s a great set up in so many ways. And . . .

Walking, Running, Sniffing, and Swimming at the Sandy River Delta

Recently, Tobi and I drove out to a 1000 acre public piece of land where the Sandy River pours into the Columbia River–the big one that separates Oregon from Washington. It’s a dog and dog lover mecca of sorts. The area is an expansive stretch of grasses, wildflowers, wild blackberry bushes, cottonwood trees, and criss-crossing foot trails.

No cars, no private lawns, no dog police, no signs demanding, “Dogs Must Be On Leash,” or “No Dogs Allowed.” Amidst rustling grasses, flapping tree leaves, flitting son

g birds, and snapping insects are dogs being dogs. Dogs being dogs–sprinting, smelling, leaping, pooping, peeing, playing, exploring. And their people.

From Their Point of View

From the moment Tobi and I got out of the car, we were free from most all human constraints. Yes, we. That brings us back to the “And . . .” I left you with at the beginning of this story. To deeply bond with another being, I’ve found that offering empathy and acceptance is essential. I’m not just talkin’ dogs here. I mean with any sentient being we choose to know and relate to who lives life differently than we do. That would be every body.

Of course, dogs need to follow our lead, our rules, our directions in order to stay safe and for us to live sanely in our human world. I don’t know about you, but I’ve been in houses where dogs are in charge, and it doesn’t really work well for anyone involved. But isn’t it a part of a mutually respectful relationship to find ways of appreciating, honoring, and celebrating our differences? Even, within reason, trying them on–exploring through empathy and acceptance.

Honoring Their World

You probably don’t want to try sniffing crotches, or chewing on a raw bone, or peeing on your neighbor’s lawn. But running, roughhousing, greeting face to face, or romping carelessly along a river with our dogs are just a few ways we can say yes to there world, to honor what’s normal in their nature of communication and relating. Perhaps one of the greatest ways we can respect their ways is to provide them with opportunities to roam with us off lead at their own pace and rhythm.

As I walked with Tobi that day at the delta, I reveled in our freedom together. He’d earned my trust and I his. We watched out for each other, moving together independently as we traveled along paths, engaged with other dogs, people, and the land. He wanting to be with me, my wanting to be with him, untethered.

This is the point in a relationship with a dog, where our hours of obedience training–I mean our human training in understanding how to communicate our needs and understand how they communicate theirs–leads to a level of trust where we can reward our dogs by letting them naturally roam with us as a pack.

It’s a paradox, I suppose, the more time we take defining boundaries with our dogs and making sure we establish clear cues and reinforce them positively, the more we can honor their natural ways. It is at this point where guardianship becomes companionship.

Get On All Fours

To deepen your bond with dogs and other animal companions, you must be willing to consider how much you expect them to fit into your comfort zone and then imagine how much they are surrendering their own comfort zone to live with and please you.

• Sit in your heart as you contemplate this sacrifice; find your empathy. Get down on the floor with your dog. Let her lick your face. Rub your head again hers. Imagine what it’s like to be her in that moment.

• Make a list of all the things that your dog does for you or with you because it meets your needs.

• Then make a list of all the things you know your dog loves, wants, and needs. Be willing to learn loves, want, and needs that you couldn’t see before putting yourself into his paws.

• Define a give and take between your human world and his or her dog world. Create a working system where your dog obeys you in every way you fairly need her to, and in return give her every opportunity to enjoy her dogness. 

Tobi turns two years old next week. We still have training and communication work to do for me to feel certain that he’ll come when I ask him to, when I need him to, for example. The rewards of learning how to communicate with our dogs are what dreams of breaking the interspecies communication barriers are made of. Worlds open up, theirs and ours.

What kinds of things do you share with your dog(s) and other companion animals that let you enter into their world? What ways might you appreciate dog, human differences with more empathy and acceptance? What kinds of ways do you honor their world, their natural ways of being?

That was when my friend Meg Grace threw up a bare bones blog for me, so that I could write to everyone at once and give people a place to write back. It was great for a while. And then my grief cut too deep for me to continue my mourning in public.

Losing a Beloved Companion

The pain of losing my dog companions over the years has, each time, have felt irreparably painful, yet the pain of not sharing life with dogs is so much greater. I’m willing to break my heart again and again–know I don’t say that lightly. And so, another love scar on my heart has been soothed by the continued companionship of yet another dog.

Welcoming a New One

As I re-emerge and launch this blog, where I’ll share my knowledge, experiences, thoughts, and resources as a devoted dog person, my partner Nancy and I are now enjoying a deepening bond with a new dog friend, Tobi. He’s a big, black Standard Poodle–keen, goofy, elegant, frisbee catching, tennis net jumping, cuddle muffin. “Mister Man” will be two at the end of this month.

Once again, I’ve been through the puppy gauntlet–razor-sharp teeth, interrupted sleep, house peeing, leash-bucking madness, layers of obedience, and a renewed interest in studying dog training as a vocation. I’m in the beginning stages of a dog training course through Animal Behavior College and plan on sharing with you, along with many other topics, what I’m learning as I go.

Please join me in igniting a lively conversation about all aspects of our deeply woven history of canine companionship, for better or worse.

Tribute to Hazel

For all you who have had animal assisted therapy dogs, you’ll appreciate this tribute to Hazel, who often rode to work with me on the bus:

Gaping Tenderness

The number four
Eases curbside,
Hiss, pop,
Flap doors open,
We step in,

Doors close.
Driver nods at my bus pass,
Glances at Hazel,
Pulls out onto Division Street.

Facing the isle, the faces,
Gauntlet of strangers, we stumble
To find a seat.
She plants her rear between my legs
Bracing for staggering stops and starts.

A dog on the bus, wearing a cape,
In service.
Gushing glances skim her soft fur,
Hands hunger, arms twitch,
Wanting, blood runs warmer, in spots.

Unspoken stir, attention gathers, minds
Wake up wondering.
Is there something wrong with the woman?
Is she blind, deaf, epileptic? Concerned,
The front-seated move, offering their place.

“Can I pet your dog?” Shoulder tap, “M’am,
What kind of dog is she, what does she do?”
“Is she a service dog? Can I touch her?”
“I could never bring my dog on a bus.”
“Mommy, look at how her eyebrows twitch.”

Life rises, mingles, slips and leaks.
Story scatters throughout the vessel.
Revealing one mystery: dog,
to touch, you, and you, to touch.
Dog, god, dog poised to give it away.

Bared hearts flail in the isle.
Trembling muscles, four-chamber symphonies
Glistening, reflecting lament, out
Of chests caught gaping for tenderness.

The number four
Eases curbside,
Hiss, pop,
Flap doors open,
We step out.

Warmer, in spots
Doors close.

How would you describe you and your dog’s bond. What dogs in your life and those who have been in your life deserve tribute? I’d love to hear your tribute stories.