“Nature is not in a hurry, but everything is done.” ~Laozi
With two noisy kids, a stressful job, and a house to maintain, life is hectic. For years my kids begged for a dog and I would always say, “When you get older, life slows down.”
Time is passing, but life is still chaotic when my teenager comes up with suggestions again. With some trepidation, we took home a little ball of golden graffiti fluff that we called Murphy. How much trouble can he cause?
It didn’t take long for our adorable puppy to grow into a hundred pound fool. He is fully integrated into the way we live our lives, which is to say, He adds even more chaos to our already full and crazy lives. We adore him for the love and fun he brings us, but I wonder when he will get past the puppy stage and slow down.
After two years together, he still pulls us around like a rag doll and chases squirrels on our “walks.” We tried obedience training and failed. Every day, as he worked on his own, he would show us a freshly chewed shoe or a freshly chewed window sill.
The final straw was when he unzipped my purse with his nose, tore up my passport and asked me to declare to the city clerk that “the dog ate my passport” in order to replace it. Something has to change.
Instead of considering that Murphy’s wild behavior might be a reflection of our own lives in overdrive, we opted for an external solution to his destructive antics: We doubled down and naively bought a dog for our dog. A dog. A one-year-old Shih Tzu named Teddy Bear joined our swirl of joy.
The kids called him Ted, a more “manly” guy who took up residence in our house like his own child. While things didn’t exactly slow down with his addition, Ted’s entertainment value was immediately apparent.
We stop to laugh when Murphy and Ted wrestle, and they growl and sneeze to show that it’s all in good fun. Murphy would grab Ted by the neck and run around the house. Not to be outdone, even though he weighed six times more than his brother, Ted would stand just under Murphy’s chest, out of his reach, and bite his front legs sniper-style.
Ted’s only “trick” was to come to me when his brother was in trouble and sell him out for a tasty treat. My ridiculous poodle never once raised any objections to his little companions and I have since surmised that this was a ploy on their part to obtain food which they could then share at the expense of their hapless owners.
We continue to race through life experiencing its inevitable ups and downs, joys and heartbreaks. Ted and Murphy continue to make us laugh. They spent eleven years happily together until Dude fell ill and sadly crossed the Rainbow Bridge.
His friend Ted was a little lost for a while. One day I suggested we go for a drive to try to calm him down. My son Michael yelled in horror, “Mom, it’s no use. The last time you took his brother for a ride, he never came back. Oops, but it’s true.”
Still, over time, Ted grew accustomed to his status as the oldest child in the family. At twelve years old, he’s slowed down a bit from that noisy mop head that had fun running around the yard in true “zoomie” fashion.
Now, instead of pulling on the leash like a racer, he trots beside me, sniffing every bush, tree, fire hydrant, and bug he encounters along the way. At first, I was impatient and pulled him behind me, trying to finish and check “walk done” off my imaginary to-do list. I’m frustrated with the slowdown. I’m used to the busyness of life.
‘No hurries? Ted would ask with plaintive eyes as I dragged him away from the latest tantalizing scent. After one such exchange, as I sat angrily, I turned to look at Ted sleeping peacefully on the couch. His soft snores added a content rhythm to the silence in the room.
I reflect: The children have grown up and are living their own lives. Gone are the rushed birthday parties and football games, and life has begun to slow down. Maybe it’s time for me to consciously take a step back from the frenetic pace of my life and embrace the vastness of new perspectives.
The walk started to become more meditative. I let Ted take the lead – stopping and starting depending on his mood. While he was sniffing for messages left by other dogs, I would pass the time by looking around.
I notice the buds on the trees and the lilting robin song of spring. I smelled the heady scent of lilac and lily of the valley. The bright yellow of the marigolds and the purple lavender stems dazzled me. I step on the autumn leaves under my feet, admiring the natural transition before the desolation of winter and the hope of new life in spring.
We added music to our tours. Ted loves a good eighties tune but never complains that it’s dated. “Eurythmics” and “The Clash” topped the list. He especially liked it when I replaced the lyrics and included his name: “There’s a breeze on the bike path. Walking Teddy. Walking Teddy. (You sang this song, didn’t you?)
Sometimes we dance along the sidewalk. Despite Ted’s age, he can still keep up the pace. While I may have been a little out of rhythm, Ted was just as forgetful as I was, and I was delighted.
Although we didn’t break any speed records or cross 10,000 steps, we observed our surroundings with meditative awareness. Ted taught me the wonder and awe of everyday life by allowing me to slow down and experience everyday life.
Recently, 17-year-old Ted crossed the Rainbow Bridge. I miss him every day, but I know he’ll be having fun with his brother, having a good wrestling session, and sniping away at Murphy’s weak points.
As for me, I honor our time together by remembering the lessons he left me. I reflect on my younger self and think about how life might have been different if I had embraced this knowledge when I was younger. How can I enjoy more quality time with my kids if I jump off the lightning-fast merry-go-round and embrace the moment?
I feel privileged that now, in their adulthood, they have time to slow down, take note and appreciate an afternoon of frivolity. I don’t take this for granted and I trust my beautiful Ted’s insight.
I continue to enjoy my daily walks with an attitude of gratitude and a zen doggy spirit. I pause to smell the flowers and feel the sun on my skin.
Eighties playlists still play timeless tunes, and I think Ted might even have passed down some of his cool dance moves. I’m sure even Annie Lennox would agree with the fact that in my off-key replacement lyrics: “Sweet walks relax me. Ted prefers to sniff trees.”
Thank you, my fuzzy friend. May we all find comfort and joy and embrace the beauty of slowing down through new techniques my old dog taught me.
