ManicDDaily

Dalai Lama in Visor at Radio City Music Hall

My dog of fifteen years has suddenly shown her age.  There have been hints before—cataracts and a general waning in exuberance in the absence of cheese and/or a homecoming–even through those setbacks, she’s always retained a puppy-like aspect befitting the cutest dog in the world.

Last night, though, something dramatic changed inside her small body.  She  could no longer move her hind legs;  they didn’t limp, they simply became inanimate.   And, she began to tremble.

I have no confusion between dogs and people; my dog is not my child.  That said, it is a true truism that there is a special relationship between dog and human.  Of course, there’s the loyalty, the uncritical companionship, the absolute, wise, wonderful, sweetness supplied by the dog, but there is also deep tie that arises from the sense of responsibility that the human feels for the dog—the duty of care, food, pats, attention.   The love of the dog, and loving a dog, not only makes a human feel more human, it makes him or her feel more humane.

It may be that human beings are simply hardwired to love whimsically cute, communicative but not clearly speaking, beings.  It may arise from the same set of chromosomes that allows us to be loving parents.  Personally, I’m sentimental enough to think that these bonds are not only a matter of chemistry.   Because the bond is not just  towards any dog (although most dog owners are pretty soft-hearted in the canine area), but towards the particular dog that became your dog– maybe because of a certain placement of spots,  maybe, as in the case of Pearl, because she happened to be the only female and the cheapest dog in the litter of a breed that is supposed to be hypo-allergenic–  somehow this randomly chosen dog turns out to be the perfect match, the best dog in the world.

(Of course, this specialness probably only applies in the case of Pearl.)

On another note, well, sort of another note, I was lucky enough to attend one of the Dalai Lama’s lectures at Radio City Music Hall today.  All the time, I was worrying about Pearl, and there is much about Tibetan Buddhism that is hard to follow.  But hearing about the Buddhist sense of cycle, the inevitability of emergence and dissolution and re-emergence, is very wonderful when you feel like you may be actively dealing with the dissolution side (a side that is always there even when you aren’t actively dealing with it.)

Then too, there is that sweetness, even cuteness, about the Dalai Lama, however wise and formidably intellectual.   Now, an old man, he jokes, and, quite wonderfully, wears a dark red visor to shield his eyes from the theater lights.   Even as I struggled to listen to the the analysis, what was most compelling was simply this sweetness, which you feel certain comes from a deep understanding of the way life works.

(For those interested in more specifics about Pearl, and I very much appreciate your concern:  there is something wrong with her spine.  Medication has made her comfortable enough to rest, right this minute, in a lap.  Too soon to predict the short-term outcome.)

Dalai Lama in Visor