Dog Pure Awareness blog

This is Shiro in the city, posing calmly next to a snowman in Washington Square Park. He wears a leash, heels, and follows all the city rules.

My son just got 4 baby chicks and he lets them roam around the yard while he’s watching them in the evening. We put Shiro in the house but he found an open door, and with the chicks wandering freely, Shiro came trotting into the yard and came right to me, ignoring the birds. He then lay down and seemed to be pretending not to see them (in psychology it’s called ‘denial’). But the chicks had no experience with predators and were basically without fear, so one of them flew right up to his head, close enough to his large mouth to be disappeared in an instant. Shiro raised his head and went into his ‘high alert’ mode. I froze. This is a dog who preys on wild turkeys, and whose idea of a walk is to go hunting. But he knew that he couldn’t eat the chickens. He didn’t touch the baby chick.
This is really being in two worlds. Can you imagine the restraint it took to leave that chick flying next to his head alone?

I’ve been working on the idea that dogs live in two different worlds, the human world of culture, rules, and human dangers, and the world of nature, with the connections of wild animals and  the dangers of the wilderness.  The amazing thing is that our dogs seem to be able to connect comfortably and easily to both worlds. They feel a sense of belonging in both worlds. They settle into the house, curling up on our bed at night, and then the next morning they race into the woods and are immediately aware and alive to everything. It’s an incredible ability to cross a complex boundary.

I’ve just returned from the Dowsers Convention in Lyndonville Vermont and met some wonderful dog-people. I’m going to repeat the description of my talk for those of you who weren’t there, and I hope whether you were there or not, or there spiritually but not bodily, you will be interested in this idea.

Our dogs live in and between two worlds, the world of nature and the world of human culture. They are masters at negotiating the boundary between these environments, staying present and centered in themselves in both worlds. As dowsers, we also cross the boundary between worlds. By watching our dogs, we can learn about seeing different realities, and staying true to our selves.

Doesn’t it sometimes amaze you that our dogs can be themselves, feel at home, feel like they belong, in both of these worlds? That they can go from the safety of the couch to the dangers of the wilderness (or the big city after dark) instantly?  

I am working on the play, Other Minds, for a showing at FlynnSpace in Burlington VT on August 9th. I am writing a blog describing our work for the Flynn Center website. The link is:

http://www.flynncenter.blogspot.com/

I think as dog people you will like to read about our progress. We are trying to present the Dog on stage as a wise, noble and perceptive being. And we are presenting the relationship between Dog and Human in many of its complexities. So check out the flynncenter blog.

I had an interesting experience in the woods with Shiro a few mornings ago. We entered the woods from the field along the deer path, taking a route we know well. The snow is still deep and walking anywhere off the deer path is very difficult, so all the animals who live in the woods use the same paths. This morning, Shiro went in slowly, stopping every few yards to freeze and sniff the air. When we walk, I follow him, and when he stops I stop. He was stopping much longer than usual, highly alert. I watched him.

Deeper into the woods, at an area of dense small pines, he stopped. I stopped too, and noticed that the usual sounds of the forest were not around us. We have birds like crows who stay all winter, and some migratory birds had even returned that week, so cawing and chirping are part of the surroundings. There are woodpeckers tapping, squirrels clicking, and just the swish and creak of branches in the wind. These woods were silent. I had a déjà view experience –  a sense of something wrong.  

It took me a minute to remember: it was in the water, twice, once off of Kauai and once off of Culebra. I was swimming and a shark came near me in the water. All of the normal ocean sounds suddenly seemed to be quieted, not the waves, but the living creature sounds, the scraping of lobsters along the sand, fish waving their tails through the water, gulls and pelicans swooping around. These sounds were all gone.  I knew that I was in danger and swam as fast as I could to shore.

It was the same feeling of danger in the woods that morning. As I was remembering, Shiro, who hadn’t moved, turned and came back to me. He led me out of the forest.

On the deer path there were so many tracks overlapping each other, so many journeys, that I hadn’t seen anything unusual. But back at the field I looked closely. And there, where Shiro had not yet gone, were many tracks that looked a lot like Shiro’s, a pack of dog-like tracks, that could only be coyotes. They had come across the field and entered the woods ahead of us. They were the danger.

On Friday the 13th at midnight Shiro and I were on the Jordan Rich show, WBZ radio out of Boston. I say “Shiro and I” because although it was radio and Shiro didn’t talk, his presence was central.

When we arrived, Jordan, who is a genuinely friendly, really nice person, gave us a tour of the CBS building. My literary publicist Ellen Corrado and her daughter Sarah were with us and he showed us the WBZ TV studio, with its glowing green weather set and its millions of lights, letting Sarah sit in the anchor’s chair – it was all very exciting. But these are reporters and talent who work at all hours, munching crumbling donuts with their coffee, and Shiro (who was off leash) was under the desks of everyone – famous and not. He was having a great time.

Jordan later said that Shiro’s presence broke down barriers. It was an interesting observation because Jordan himself is a master at relaxing guests, encouraging callers, and bringing out the best in people. He was recognizing something in Shiro that is in himself. They were attuned to each other.

When we had been on air for a while Shiro got tired and went to sleep under the table. Jordan actually noticed that he was gone and asked “where’s Shiro?”. It was wonderful. I didn’t have to think, didn’t worry about what would happen next – we were all together, connected by Shiro’s energy.

I just posted 5 more haikus by Chloe to see if they give us any insight into the way she relates differently to the various beings in her life.

The bearded human fears to see me grow.

He thinks I’ll dump his canoe.

6.

I cock my head and strain to grasp their meaning.

Alas!  they don’t speak dog.

7.

The trainer with the squirt bottle is to be feared.

She understands me.

8.

The little human with striped socks is a push-over.

She gives biscuits.

9.

The human keeps telling me to sit.

Let her sit! I have things to do.

Yes, we need to hear from Chloe. If Chloe only responds to “Bob’s” sneezing, we need to ask her what distinguishes Bob’s sneezing from Bev’s (or anyone elses). Now here is another thought: Bob is the male leader of the pack. Is it possible that his sneezing is more significant in some way to Chloe because he is the male leader? I know that Shiro treats Soren, the male pack leader, differently from the rest of us. And Bryce, before he died, responded differently to Soren also.