mainly love stories
My Canine Teacher
Moss Pilget, March 2023

I got a notice that the book I had on hold, Pema Chödrön’s, When Things Fall Apart, Heart Advice for Difficult Times, was ready. I love that the library lets me take books home for free. I walk in, pick out whatever looks interesting and go. No charge. The magic never gets old.
Things weren’t actually falling apart for me personally. But, being human and having lived a lot of years, there have been plenty of times when I felt like they were. That book had been on hold for quite a while. Apparently, I was in good company.
“This very moment is the perfect teacher,” writes Pema Chödrön.
I look up from my book. Jeffrey snores at my feet. His new toy, a turquoise pterodactyl, lies in pieces next to him. Squeakers were the first to go, then the wings. One might say his pterodactyl has fallen apart. But Jeffrey doesn’t mind. He’ll happily push its moist, drooled-on torso up against my thigh, pleading for a game of tug of war. Falling apart is fine with him.
Jeffrey farts, an audible, squeaky dog fart. I brace myself for the odor that I know will soon blanket the room.
I’m reminded of other dogs I’ve known and loved.
Ducky was the consummate sharer. One night, on a walk with the kids, she found a fresh pita bread. Bread was one of her favorite snacks, but, rather than devouring it on the spot she brought it home. She dropped it on the living room rug, sat, looked up at me. “For us,” she said, or at least that’s what I heard. Another night she snagged a pizza box left on the sidewalk, carried it four blocks to her best friend Finian’s house, set it on his front porch, walked away. Ducky knew how to share.
Biscuit loved everything and everybody. Pema Chödrön says, “Generally speaking, we regard discomfort in any form as bad news.” Not Biscuit. She was delighted to go to the vet, leapt out of the car, bounded to the door every time. They did creepy, scary things to her—gave her injections; anesthetized her to surgically remove a foxtail imbedded in her paw, sending her home wearing a cone of shame; induced vomiting after she’d swallowed an entire pair of underpants. She never faltered—arrived wagging, departed wagging.
Mindy’s dogs, Walter and Fritzy, showed their appreciation for the hand-knit toys I made by destroying them in under five minutes. They smiled, red and purple bits of yarn hanging from their canines. They’re fierce hunters, always on the lookout for a rat on walks. Whenever I visited, one of them would forgo sleeping with Mindy and curl up next to me in the guest bed on the sunporch. Sweet little furry murderers kept me company. We’re complicated beings.
I read on. “Feelings like disappointment, embarrassment, irritation, resentment, anger, jealousy, and fear, instead of being bad news, are actually very clear moments that teach us where it is that we're holding back.”
Jeffrey never holds back. He doesn’t feign nonchalance around the fearsome vacuum, but immediately runs and hides under the couch at the sight of it. He farts whenever the feeling arises, never holding it in for fear of embarrassment. Jealous of his sister, Ruby, he muscles his way in between us for attention. Obnoxious? A little. Honest? Yup.
Pema Chödrön writes about a man’s spiritual experiences in India in the 1960s who, among other things “struggled against laziness and pride.”
Laziness and pride are no struggle for Jeffrey. He languishes in laziness. He sleeps a lot, pretty much whenever he wants. He stands tall, with pride, a turquoise triangle wing tip hanging from his mouth, a remnant of his conquered pterodactyl.
He doesn’t know what day it is. He doesn’t even know the year. He rejoices in going for a walk, which he does with no agenda, no goal, no destination in mind, other than a frantic desire to race back home when it rains.
Jeffrey loves food. He eats with abandon with no concern for his weight. He’s never gone to a gym and never will.
Jeffrey doesn’t worry about how he looks; doesn’t wallow in regrets about a squandered past; doesn’t fret about the future.
Jeffrey lives in the moment.
He loves unconditionally.
“This very moment is the perfect teacher.”
In this very moment, I aspire to be more like Jeffrey.