Mind/Body Connection

Our Shih Tzu, Starburst, has an underbite.  Whenever she smiles, her bottom teeth prominently show.  This is what the dog looks like when she is happy:

 

It makes me laugh to see her smile because, sometimes, I worry that she suffers from depression and anxiety.  There are days when she is completely listless.  She won’t get out of her bed.  Some days, she becomes impatient, angry, and demanding; other days, she is very quiet and remains distant and aloof.

Lately, however, Starburst has been very happy.  She jumps around excitedly whenever I walk in the front door.  She runs around in circles and then stops right in front of me.  She smiles while her tail wags so hard and fast her little backside bounces off the floor.  Then she runs down the hallway and tumbles over with her bottom flipping up over her head.  She prances back into the living room and jumps excitedly up onto the couch and begs for attention until I rub behind her ears.  “Hey, little Fur Face,” I’ll tease her.  But she doesn’t mind my name calling.  She’ll roll over onto her back and wait for her belly to be rubbed.  I usually avoid doing this, though.  Starburst has a very sensitive spot on the right side of her body.  If I accidentally brush over this area, she’ll sit up with a shriek and nip at my hand.  I’ve learned the hard way not to be persuaded to rub her belly, even though she looks up at me with her big, brown puppy dog eyes.  I’ll just shake my head at her, walk into my bedroom, and close the door behind me.

Starburst isn’t finished playing, though.  Her favorite game is “Ding Dong Ditch.”  She likes to scratch at my door while I’m working.  I try to ignore her, but she keeps knocking until I finally get up from my chair and open the door.  I look down the hallway and see the dog’s furry backside bouncing up and down as she runs back to the living room.  I follow her only to find that she has jumped into her small, round bed and pretends to be asleep.

I go back into my bedroom and a few minutes later, the scratching begins again.  I open the door, and Starburst is once more running back to her bed.  She jumps onto the mattress and once more pretends to sleep.  “Stop now, Starburst,” I’ll tell her.  “Your not funny.”

But the situation happens again.  I hear scratching at my door.  I see a small dog racing down the hallway.  I see her little body jerk into bed.  She lays her head down and once more closes her eyes.  This time, however, I just laugh at her.  I walk over and  pick her up. I cuddle her close and carry her back into the bedroom with me where she will fall asleep on my lap while I work on my novel or my poetry book.  Sometimes, she’ll crawl underneath my bed where she snores and sniffs loudly as she enjoys her dreams.

There were some late nights when Starburst would visit my bedroom and become very agitated.  I don’t know what it was, but something inside my closet upset her.  She would stand stiff and straight in the middle of my room, staring intently and growling at something in the corner of my closet.  There were some nights that she really freaked me out, too.  Did she see…or sense…something that I couldn’t comprehend?

But last night, she was suddenly over her fear.  As soon as she entered my bedroom, she went over to the closet and climbed in through the open wooden door.  She then quickly created a small nest out of my shoes and promptly fell asleep.  There was no growling or barking, no fear or agitation.  She snored peacefully. And I slept much easier that night, too.

Starburst is also learning to have better manners and not be so impatient.  Before, whenever she was hungry or thirsty, she would stand in the kitchen with her bowl in her mouth.  She would fling the bowl, hitting me in the ankles with it, whenever I walked into the room.  Oh, yes, I got the message: she needed food or water!

Starburst no longer behaves this way now, though.  The other night, I walked into the kitchen to wash the dishes.  I didn’t notice that her bowl was empty.  Instead of throwing it at me, I suddenly heard a small cough.  Seriously, the dog just started to emit dainty, little coughs.  Ahha! Ahha!  She sounded just like Ben Stiller in Zoolander when he thought he had the black lung.  But she got my attention, and I filled her bowl.  She looked up at me with a grateful smile, sipped slowly, and then gracefully walked out of the kitchen with her tail held high.  She hadn’t been anxious or angry.  She was courteous and kind.  This made me very happy.

Starburst had had some health issues over the last few months.  She had been suffering from digestive illnesses, and her right eye had become infected making it difficult for her to see.  Mary, my sister-in-law, had taken Starburst to a series of vet appointments that include a few shots and several rounds of medication.  The loving efforts of my sister-in-law and the doctor really has made a difference.

Starburst is returning to good health, and her personality has been affected in very positive ways. She is a perfect example of the mind/body connection.  It is true for every living thing.  When we are in good health, we are loving and kind.  When we feel good about ourselves and practice love, our phsyical bodies heal.  I smile now as Starburst comes into my room.  And as she cuddles up on my lap and falls asleep, I wish good health and loving blessings on everyone of God’s precious creatures.  God Bless You and Good Health!

 

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Help Is On the Way!

“Friskie!  Cowboy!  Starburst!”  I hollered as I stood at the back door.  “Come on, dogs.  Let’s go!”

Friskie and Cowboy responded immediately.  Both dogs came running quickly across the backyard.  I laughed as I watched their small bodies leaping and gliding across the grass.  After running around in circles a few more times as they chased after each other, the Dachshund and the mutt bounded up the five wooden steps and into the dining room through the open back door.  I laughed as I pulled my legs out of the way so I wouldn’t block their progress.

All right, now where is Starburst?  I wondered as I looked around the backyard.  “Starburst!”  I hollered.  “Come on, girl.  I gotta leave for class.  Get yourself in this house.  Come on.”  I don’t know why I always try to reason with the dogs.  Somewhere in my muddled brain, I knew Starburst couldn’t understand what I was saying, but I didn’t care.  I still tend to talk to our three dogs as if they are rowdy, little kids.  And I was desperate now that they understand me.  I had to get all the dogs inside because I needed to be at the community college in just a few minutes.  The dogs were never left outside when there was no one home.

“Star!  Starry!  Starbutt!”  I ran through all of our little Shih Tzu’s known nicknames, but there was still no response.  I took a deep breath and fought back a flood of emotions.  First, I felt frustrated.  “Come on, girl!  I need to get going!”  When there was still no response, I began to get a little nervous.  God, what if the dog got out of the fenced backyard somehow?  Did someone leave the gate open?  What if someone took the dog out of our backyard?  Do people actually dognap?  Okay, maybe that is a little extreme, but I couldn’t stand the thought of something happening to our adorable, blond and brown, furry pet.

Taking a deep breath, I started to step away from the back door.  “Star!”  And suddenly, there she was!  I laughed as I watched the small dog running towards the house from the far back fence.  She was racing across the back yard with her long fur flying back, and her little tongue lolling out of her mouth.  “Come on, girl!”  I cheered her on.

But then, to my surprise, Starburst suddenly came to a complete stop.  “It’s okay, Star, get in the house,” I shouted.  But she wasn’t moving.  Star had been running excitedly towards the house but had come to a screeching halt when she suddenly found a branch from our large oak tree lying on the ground and blocking her way to the door.  She stood quietly still for just a moment as she stared helplessly at the branch.  “You can do it,” I told her as I remained by the back door.  “Come on, girl, just jump over it.”

But Star just stood there as she contemplated the obstacle that had appeared in her path.  Slowly, she stuck out one of her long, thin paws and pushed at the branch.  She swatted cautiously at a few of the spindly twigs that were sticking crookedly up from the long piece of wood.  As the branch rocked away and then rolled back towards Star again, the dog jumped and barked at the attacking limb.  I started to laugh, before saying, “Jump over it, Star.”  But the little dog hesitated at she swatted again at the branch.

“Then go around it,” I tried to tell her.  “Star, if you can’t jump over the branch, you can walk around it.  It’s not that big.”  There it was again.  I was trying to reason with an animal who couldn’t possibly even contemplate my thoughts.  But still, that didn’t stop the words tumbling out of my mouth.  “Come on, Star, just go around it.”

I watched as Starburst walked towards the branch and then jumped back.  Her little body leaped forward again as she barked at the unyielding limb.  Then she jumped back, pranced around on her long legs, and took a hesitant leap forward.  However, her movement was so awkward, she still landed on the wrong side of the branch.  Starburst still found her passage to the house blocked.  She reached out her paw one last time, pushed at the branch and then did something that I had to admit I had done on several occasions.

She just finally gave up.

Instead of fighting against the branch any longer, she just took a deep breath and then keeled over onto her right side.  She just lay there, motionless and helpless, against the branch.

“Star, oh my gosh, girl,” I sighed as I now left the doorway.  I walked across the yard, stepped over the branch and stood over the prone Shih Tzu.  I reached down and picked up the dog’s furry little body.  I placed her four paws on the ground and then said, “Like this Star.”  Then I raised her up high enough to jump over the branch and placed her on the other side.  As soon as her little feet hit the ground, Star was off and running again as if nothing had happened.  She ran towards the house with her little rear swishing back and forth and her tail wagging proudly.  As I followed the dog towards the house and stepped inside, I suddenly had a moment’s realization.  I couldn’t stop remembering the times when I had given up just because some small obstacle had suddenly blocked my path.  Yes, I would reach out occasionally and try to push the obstacle out of my way.  I would just bat at the problem a few times before finally giving up in tears and frustration.  How many times have I thrown myself down on the ground just like Starburst did?

But now, I also realized that there was one difference between Starburst and me.  The dog had gratefully and gladly accepted my help.  She didn’t resist the assistance I had given her and then once the situation was corrected she had just merrily continued on her way.

Oh, my gosh, how many times have I resisted help from other people out of a silly sense of pride?  How many times has my ego made me respond, “Oh, I’m fine, that’s okay, thanks” whenever someone had offered to help me move the obstacles away?  And how many times, when someone did help me, did I refuse to show sincere gratitude because I thought accepting help was a sign of weakness.  I refused help so I would not have to feel obligate to anyone without realizing that allowing others to help is a gift we give to each other.  It is a chance to feel needed and connected to another soul.

Now, I walked into the house and looked at all three dogs already cuddled together in their large bed as they slept peacefully.  Yeah, I suddenly realized I didn’t need to be strong all the time.  I could be vulnerable.  I could accept help.  I could be sincerely appreciative.

I leaned down and carefully ran my hand over the dogs as I patted each one in turn.  Such great lessons I have learned from animals…and ones I will never forget.