Meet Stella, the soon-to-be fifteen year-old Jack Russell Terrier. She hasn’t had the best life, as she has been at Humane Society a total of three times and suffers from PTSD from neglect and harsh treatment. She is deaf, her eyesight is going, she has a little get-up in her back hip and a stubborn streak that must be related to the breed. In this last phase of her life, she is getting progressively loopier and has symptoms of doggie dementia. The symptoms include exaggerated anxiety, getting lost and seeming uncertain at times. She seems to be reminding me of important teachings and new perspectives on a daily basis.
Stella moves at a trot with determination. This walk is otherwise known as pacing and there are times when her wind-up, never-stopping gait begins to make me feel a little batty. She seems to be moving around just because — there is no purpose, just an expression of her internal energy. She doesn’t pace in anticipation to feedings or to be let in or out, she just does laps, without direction just moving with such seriousness it’s hard to believe there is not an intention behind it.
Frequently, I find Stella with her nose stuck in the corner. Sometimes she makes a little whimper as if to say, help I am stuck. More often than not, Stella could just rotate her head to the right or the left and turn around and suddenly she would be back to moving forward. But without my pushing on her shoulder or picking her up and turning her around, she, according to her peanut-size brained perspective, is stuck.
Stella enjoys pleasures of living: delicious food and comfortable places to sleep. She chooses big beds by heaters to sleep next to. Most often her dinner, late afternoon snack, multiple lunches (she eats a lot) are stuck to the top of her nose. She wears dog food on her nose with no remorse, self-consciousness or care. As she sleeps, she snores louder than a freight train.
Most importantly, on a good day, Stella gallops as if she is the fastest dog west of the Mississippi. In the back yard, she does little hops and jumps over ditches and sticks. Sometimes she crashes sliding nose first, but she gets up and starts all over again. Later she may walk like a geriatric dog, hobbling slowly along but when she feels good, she gallops.
So what is it that Stella has to teach? Walk with purpose even if you’re unsure of your direction. Follow your own internal energy … be unselfconscious. Walk just to walk. If you find yourself stuck choose to look in a different direction; you may find your way out. Eat and sleep indulgently because you deserve it. And most importantly, when you feel good, kick up your heels, express your joy and gallop because you are the best you have ever been.