Canine Gratitude

As an antidote to dead-animals-as-trophies in my previous post, I present to you a particularly valuable lesson I have learned on a daily basis from my dog, Ansa.

Once I’m awake, Ansa starts her day with a huge stretch on my bed. I've learned how to do the same.

I say: Good morning, Ansa, and she then comes up and lays her head on the pillow next to me and allows me to pet her. I then allow her to lick my hand.

After I take her outside she heads off to a corner of the dining room while I make the all-important coffee in the all-important Krups as she supervises. I start the toast. I fetch her dishes and fill with water and her particular mix of food. Ansa was a rescue dog and wasn’t used to dog food so it was a very slow introduction of various kinds until the mixture is now one she eats.

I put down her dishes. She saunters over to them. I start cooking the eggs or the cereal. She leaves her dishes after a small sniff and comes over to me.

I say: You’re welcome, Ansa.

If there isn’t the right degree of joy in my voice, she comes back again, still without touching her food.

I say: You’re so welcome, Ansa. So, so welcome.

She trots off with a grin, an extra wag of the tail. I stop what I’m doing. I reflect on all the things in life I have to be thankful for. My health, my view of the ocean, my lovely peaceful home, the food in the larder, the roses outside the door.

Thank you! I say to the universe.

The trees rustle. The waves scrish on the shore. The bluebird hops along the deck. The sun peeks from behind a cloud.

All is so, so right in my tiny corner of the world.