Giving up the Addiction to Worry via Poodle Sitting

I’ve been poodle and house minding for a friend in the Blue Mountains this past week, and being with dogs always reminds me how much I worry and wonder and stress about every day things.

The poodles sleep, and when they are not sleeping they play, and when they are not playing or sleeping they eat. That’s what they do. And dog is god backwards. Maybe that means that being dog-like is very ungodly, or does it mean that being dog-like is very god-like? I mean I’ve heard that a simple life is a good life, that being in the moment is grand, and that doing what you love is an excellent way to live, and it seems the dogs have it. My mind, however, has other ideas….

The dogs though certainly don’t seem to be worried whether they are following the right path in life, or stressed that the weekend is nearly over, or feeling guilty for watching the midday movie. Nor do they balk at scratching the treats cupboard until they get one, or seem to care about a walk tomorrow.

Dogs are like kids I suppose, and kids are supposed to be the closest to God. So while I sit here writing and wondering, pondering on whether acting like a dog is a good thing, or whether I’m using it as an excuse to be lazy, or whether if I did live a dog’s life (common, I know you’ve wanted it too) whether I will indeed go to hell, the poodles meanwhile have gone out into the sunny garden I can see out the window, and are chasing butterflies and each other and yapping in pure exhilaration.

And if I shut off the nagging hag in my mind, and put my hand on my heart, it’s them I want to join. And apparently my heart is my spirit, which is the part of me that is God, so by Jove, I think the dogs have it. My heart is my god and my head is the devil. If I just keep chanting this over and over to myself I know I’ll be all right. I’m with the gods…er…dogs!