September is here. Growing up, this was always my favorite time of year. It meant going back to school, being with friends, and learning something new. As I walked my golden retrievers today, I felt nostalgic. I missed being a student; I missed my wonderful teachers.

Suddenly I felt a tug on both leashes. “What about us? We’re your teachers,” Liza Jolie and Zydeco Ardoin not so gently reminded me.

Of course, Liza and Zydeco were right. We never stop being students. Everything in our lives – people, animals, circumstances, everything – serves as our teacher. Both of my golden retrievers are excellent teachers. We all can learn by following their example.

Gratitude

Zydeco loves stuffed toys. He drops his duck, gorilla, hedgehog, or whatever the toy du jour is, at my feet. He wags his tail, looks up expectantly, and begs me to throw it again and again. There can be no doubt about his appreciation, no doubt about his joy.

No Comparative Mind

Liza loves balls. With jaws locked, she holds on to her pink tennis ball relentlessly.  Her enthusiasm for “keep away” isn’t dampened by comparative thinking. She’d never feel discontent or refuse to play because her ball is the wrong color, the wrong shape, or the wrong size.

Living in the Moment

A few months ago, Zydeco developed a problem with his breathing. I struggle with this. I worry about his condition worsening, about his suffering, about what I’ll do without him. Sometimes I get lost in worry, and ironically, it’s Zydie who helps me find my way again. Lovingly resting his head in my lap, he smiles in that way only a golden retriever can smile. “I’m still here Mom. Let’s make the most of now.” Zydeco isn’t worried about what may or may not happen tomorrow. Every day, he still brings his leash to me, insisting that it’s time for a walk. He revels in playing with Liza, enjoys his treats, and feasts on love and attention. Zydeco is an expert at being present and living in the moment.

Focus & Flow

There’s nothing quite like Liza’s ability to focus when she spies a squirrel. She immediately sets an intention to catch that peculiar little creature with a bushy tail. It’s a challenging intention, but she never waivers in her resolve. She never doubts her ability to accomplish the task at hand. Rather, she engages in it wholeheartedly. Lizie waits patiently, not moving a muscle, then gives chase when the time seems right. The squirrels who hang out in my yard seem to enjoy the game as much as she does. They race back and forth along the fence, chattering at her: “Catch me if you can.” Liza can play this game for hours. She gets so engrossed, she even forgets her mealtime. For Liza, that’s saying a lot. If I didn’t know better, I would say she was experiencing what we human beings define as “flow.”

Play

For Liza and Zydeco, play is a daily practice. They love to wrestle, lunging at one another in midair and rolling, furiously intertwined, on the grass. I’m amazed they never harm one another, but they play by a well-understood set of rules:  “I can use only this much force. I can bite only this hard….” Liza and Zydie don’t play out of a sense of necessity but for the sheer joy of doing it. Both of them inspire me – they inspire me to play like a dog.

Love & Forgiveness

Zydeco really doesn’t like taking his meds. “Why Mom, do you make me swallow those ghastly pills?” Liza makes it perfectly clear how much she detests walking with a gentle lead. Every once in a while one of them gets underfoot, and I step on his or her paw.  Even so, all is quickly forgiven; neither of them harbors anger or resentment. Have you ever run into someone who hurt your feelings years ago, someone you haven’t seen since that time? When you run into him or her, do you see someone who has hurt you or who that person is today? Zydeco and Liza see only the latter. I wish the same were always true of me.

The above are only a few of the lessons I’ve learned from my dogs.  Thank you Liza and Zydeco for being my teachers and for sharing your golden wisdom. I am extremely grateful to have you in my life.