Lessons from a Dog

Each morning, at the side of my bed, explodes the world's most animated alarm clock -- a wiggling, wriggling, snorting bundle of sheer exuberance known as Bishop.  My normally quiet, faithful follower greets me with unrestrained excitement and overflowing joy.  His entire body wags, his tail almost slapping him in his own face.  The eagerness and abandon with which he greets the day is to be envied -- and emulated.  Well, maybe not exactly.

Often I have thought to myself, "What an attitude!"  I'm almost ashamed by the way I grumble, or complain about my aches and pains.  This guy eats scraps from  our table -- he can't even see above our table!  He sleeps on a mat on the floor (albeit Tempurpedic) that he shares with Tinkerbell, who gives new meaning to bed hog, and sucks her leg to puddles of slobber from one end to the other.  His toilet is outside in 20-degree weather; the biggest event of his day is a walk!  (Although the occasional car ride to Swiss Farm trumps that any day!)  Still, he is delighted to be a part of it!  This guy can't appreciate a sunrise the way I can, yet he thrills to rise with it.  He can't speak or fully comprehend what's being said, yet he craves our attention and hangs on every word!  He spends the greater part of his day looking for me, or making sure he's as close to me as possible; he is content merely to sit at my feet and rest in my presence.

Wow.  So many lessons there...