Leonard WoolseyI am beginning to believe my dog knows me better than I do.
Dogs are simply remarkable creatures. My canine soulmate, Luna, is a cross between a Scottish border collie and an Australian Kelpie – each breed harboring more energy than a toddler spinning out of control after a discovered box of sugary Pop-Tarts.
Luna operates with two speeds – both marginally different versions of overdrive. Only when her eyelids close, do the paws stop moving.
But remarkably, if I’m sad or not feeling well, she knows and changes her behavior.
Shortly after we rescued her from the shelter, I got a peek at the remarkable heart beating inside my new canine partner.
I’d come home from work not feeling well. So my wife ran the usual time-honored plan, pointing me towards the sofa, tossing a blanket over me, and telling me she would grab the thermometer.
“I’ll check back on you in a bit,” she said. “Now, get some rest.”
With my head swimming, I lay still, talking myself into going to sleep.
And then Luna, the black and tan furball of perpetual motion and defender against all things USPS, climbed up on my chest. Then, putting her head down near my neck, she curled up as if her sole job was to be with me at the moment.
I didn’t know what to do, but her warmth seemed to extract whatever made me feel bad. Granted, this could all be in my head, but she lay there quietly as long as I did, ignoring passing delivery trucks, yard-invading squirrels, and the urge to root out a pair of dirty socks.
My wife walked in and stopped. Opening my eyes, I didn’t know what to say. Luna was changing her nature to take care of one of us.
A few weeks later, my wife and I were dealing with something heavy, our hearts moving from inside our chests to our sleeves. The tears caught Luna’s attention. Again, her nature changed, jumping up and licking the tears off our faces. And with the salty pain wiped away, she put her nose on our shoulders.
I’m not sure what makes dogs so sensitive to humans. The bond is remarkable, with the ability to read us bordering on psychic.
Granted, she is sometimes deaf as a two-by-four when I’m asking her to do something, but I’ll chalk that up to stubbornness. But dogs seem exceptional in their ability to intuitively tune into the needs of humans. From being fiercely protective to so loving, there is something God put into canine DNA. Large or small, dogs seem incredibly instinctive and selfless to the needs of their human partners.
This past week my wife found it turn to retreat to the sofa. Working upstairs, I leaned over the railing to check on her. Down below, I could see my wife asleep and her favorite yellow blanket pulled across her. Tucked up warmly against her side was a black and tan furball, again taking care of business.
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Leonard Woolsey