Tag Archives: Dog

A New Kind of Smudge Prayer

Right around New Year’s, I found out there’s something called a Smudge Prayer. Theses prayers are intended to clear out negative energy and refresh your environment.

I, of course, was expecting something different because of this guy:


I thought the prayer should be along the lines of, Dear God, please help Smudge be a good dog so he doesn’t keep stealing my ginger snap cookies off the counter.

If you think the answer to my Smudge Prayer is to move the cookies, you’d be right. Except the first time Smudge ate my cookies, he somehow managed to get them out of a bowl I had them in for safe keeping. The second time, he stole the Tupperware container off the counter and then chewed off the lid.

I am dealing with no ordinary dog.


My mom once came to Norfolk to watch the pups when Heath’s brother died. She loves to tell the story how Smudge worked for what seemed like an hour, twisting and contorting his body to get a single piece of dog food that had fallen behind their plastic food bin.

If you want a role model for perseverance, look no further than Smudge.

The idea of a Smudge prayer got me thinking — I probably should be praying to be more like Smudge in my daily life.

Smudge knows what he wants and always goes for it, whether it’s a container of cookies on the counter, the spot where you’re sitting on the couch, or deciding when it’s time for bed, in which case he will immediately leave you and go jump on your bed to settle down for his nighttime snoozle.


He also sees possibility wherever he goes, which includes stealing our socks and winter gear, such as hats and gloves, understanding the value of a stick as the best toy ever, or hearing the toaster pop and thinking maybe it’s for him.

One of my favorite Smudge stories takes place on the first day it actually felt like spring in March or April of 2017. The sun was shining, the pond had thawed, and a warm breeze finally graced us with its presence.

That day, Smudge headed out to the pond after breakfast to splash around and chase fish. In the three years we’ve been taking care of the pups, I’ve been there when he’s caught two. They’re little tiny creatures and he drops them at my feet as a gift. Each time, I toss them back, hoping they’re still alive.

Smudge, however, thinks we’re playing fetch and dives back into the pond.

It’s adorable because he can never quite find that fish again.

On that beautiful spring day in 2017, Smudge spent ALL DAY in the pond. Seriously. He didn’t even want to come in for dinner.

When I finally did coax him in, he wolfed down his food even faster than usual, and then busted out the front door on his own to get back into the pond. Heath and I laughed ourselves silly as the door banged shut.

He didn’t come in until after dark.


Smudge also loves his humans. When Heath and I came back to Norfolk the first week of January to resume our house-sitting job, we overlapped for a morning with Smudge’s human mom and dad. As we sat at the table chatting, Smudge went from person to person, getting all the love, head rubs, and ear scratches he could before moving on to the next person. Again, he did this for hours.

So, yes, I do want to be more like Smudge. To help me on my way, I’ve written my own Smudge prayer.

It begins, Dear God, please help me be more like Smudge. 

In a previous version of this blog post, I included the entire prayer. I have since I had to take it down from my blog because I’ve gotten such wonderful feedback on the prayer that I’m now attempting to revise it to submit for publication. I apologize for now having a blog post that builds up to something that doesn’t happen. I hope you understand.

 

Contemplating My Place in the World

Title 2

Saturday brought significant snow fall to Norfolk.

Snow 2

Snow 1

Since it’s still early in the season, I’m welcoming the snow with open arms and a profound sense of joy. I think part of that has to do with my new dog buddy, Dodger.

Dodger in Snow Edited

At the request of his human mom, I’ve been walking Dodger a few times a week. He’s a frisky pup who likes running and adventures, so when I arrive on their doorstep to pick him up for our walks, you can imagine his excitement. Not only do I receive lots of licks and paw offerings, but he likes to sit on my lap and lean into me like we’re hugging.

Eventually we end our love fest and get on with the walking. But first, I have to get Dodger past the electric fence in his yard. Even without his collar on, he refuses to cross the boundary line. Sometimes, he won’t even get in the car when he thinks it’s too close. But once I drive him out of the yard, we are good to go!

We then head off to a local field for some excellent romping. On the way, I’ve taken to singing Dodger songs, since he’s so happy and I can’t help but feel happy around him. Also, the name Dodger lends itself well to many holiday songs.  For example:

Dodging through the snow

In a one-dog open sleigh

O’er the fields we go

Barking all the way

Woof Woof Woof

Bells on Furry Rings

Making Spirits Bright

What fun it is to Dodge and Sing

A Dodger Dog tonight

Oh, Dodger Dog, Dodger Dog

Dodger All the Way!

Oh what fun it is to Dodge

In a one-dog open sleigh, hey!

Dodger seems to enjoy my singing despite my awful voice.  He definitely enjoys the snow more. Though if I’m being honest, I can’t imagine there are things in this world he doesn’t enjoy.

Dodger in Snow

As we walked through the woods, the snow freezing in my hair, on my hat, and on my scarf, I almost started crying for how beautiful the world looked. I said prayers of gratitude for being allowed to experience the moment; not just the quiet solitude of the snow, but also being blessed with the companionship of Dodger.

Not once when I was a college professor did I ever feel so at one with the world and my place in it than I did for those moments with Dodger in the woods.

I often joke these days that I should start replying to people when they ask that my PhD is in Professional House and Dog Sitting. I know it doesn’t quite have the same prestige as a PhD in psychology, but I didn’t truly belong in the classroom as a professor.

Yes, there are some students out there who have let me know throughout the years that I had a positive impact on their lives; similarly, there are some students who impacted me just the same. I’m not saying I don’t have some wonderful memories of teaching or that I didn’t enjoy certain aspects of my job.

But my heart was never truly in teaching, at least not teaching statistics and research methods. I knew in year 2 of my PhD program that I was in the wrong field. For a variety of reasons, I wasn’t brave enough to quit then.

Once I graduated, I picked a job I thought I would like and one that had many appealing qualities, especially a flexible schedule and summers off. In retrospect, I learned the hard way that when I lived a life I was not passionate about I was slowly poisoning myself. It’s no wonder I had so many health issues for so many years.

Since leaving teaching, I’m still asking the question where do I belong? It’s scary not to be sure, but at the same time exhilarating because I’m open to so many possibilities.  I may never end up knowing the answer for certain, but for right now I can say with enthusiasm and joy in my heart that I belong in the woods, with a dog, writing about the experience. Thank you for your willingness to read my words.  And WOOF! From Dodger.

 

Memoir Monday, February 13th, 2016

TItle

I’ve shared this picture through social media before, but given how ridiculously cute it is you can expect me to share it every February 14th(ish) until I die.  I also like to believe that little squirrel created his tree art just for me, but it could have been for somebody else.

Regardless, I can still remember the wonder I felt as I turned around a corner on the Naperville River Walk

around the corner

and came across the little fella scampering around.

squirrel

Then I saw the heart and I could have melted on the spot.  Thankfully it was too cold in Naperville for that to happen, but at least my hands weren’t frostbitten enough that I couldn’t take out my phone to snap a few pictures.

Seeing my little squirrely love note came at just the right time, too, because I was feeling pretty lonely at that point in my life.  I had recently given up my dog, Jack, to my parents in Harrisburg, PA.

Jack

His dementia was getting progressively worse and me being at work for 8+ hours a day wasn’t helping.  I feared I would come home one day and find him in agony because he had eaten something he shouldn’t have.

My parents, in one of the greatest acts of kindness I have ever received, offered to take care of Jack.  They no longer work outside the home, and my older brother also lives with them, so there’d be plenty of people to keep Jack company throughout the day.

In addition, one of my best friends at work had moved on to a new job.  Even though I felt thrilled she was finally out of a position in which she was clearly underutilized and, frankly, not fairly compensated or appreciated for her talents and work, I still missed our daily interactions.  I didn’t have many other close friends where my office was located and many days I felt isolated.

So when I came across this message of love in one of my favorite places, by a cute and furry critter no less, I couldn’t help but smile.  I even sent the photo off to Shutterfly to have it made into a notebook with the song lyrics, Put a little love in your heart and the world will be a better place on the front cover (lyrics by Jackie DeShannon, Randy Myers, & Jimmy Holiday).

That song had been in my mind a lot at the time.  A local musician performed it at an interfaith New Year’s Day celebration in downtown Naperville and I became hooked.  I honestly can’t say if I’d never heard it before or

if I just hadn’t heard it with my new evolving life perspective that there was a lot more to the world than the little life I was living. 

I ended up playing it on repeat on my iPad many times that winter and each and every time I felt a renewed sense of love and spirit in the world.

I’m very glad I have these reminders about love because as of late, I haven’t been treating myself with very much love.  I don’t know why my narcolepsy seems so much worse these past few months, but I feel frustrated and demoralized that some days my greatest accomplishment is making it downstairs in the morning to feed the dogs.

I then surf the internet ad nauseam because it feels like I’m doing something, but I know I’m not, and so I beat myself up for it – I should be writing; I should be reading; I should be working on my website; I should be doing anything other than mindlessly thumbing through social media to the point where my eyes glaze over and I doze off.

Is this because of narcolepsy or inertia, I can’t say for certain.  But in addition to feeling tired from a disease, I am tired of “shoulding” on myself (perhaps another disease in and of itself).  My husband has very kindly and lovingly pointed out that it’s okay for me to take breaks and maybe I should cut myself some slack.  Why is it that these “shoulds” I am more inclined to reject than embrace?  These are the same things I would tell (have told) my loved ones when they beat themselves up.  I would never let anyone talk to my family or friends that way, yet somehow, I accept it for myself.

It’s a funny situation because when I realize my hypocrisy, I get further down on myself for not remembering to be more enlightened.  It seems like an endless patter, until I finally reach a point where I remember that violence in any form, which to me includes emotional bullying, sarcasm, and insults, is unacceptable.  And the way I mentally beat myself up is violent.

This recognition is a good thing because above all I want to be a peaceful a person.

And if I can’t be at peace with myself, how can I expect to contribute peacefully to our world? 

I put a little love in my heart and I try to remember how much I have to be grateful for, as well as remembering that you never know when you might turn a corner and find something so wonderful you didn’t even know to hope for it.