A dog’s life

The past few days, I’ve been trying to live like Ronnie and Miyake.

Whenever there’s a little time on my hands (which is a lot now), I take a nap with my limbs sprawled out languorously. They do the same on the floor next to me.

When I get up, I take a nice deep stretch.

When there’s work to be done, I do it playfully, humming a tune — since I don’t have a tail to wag.

The rest of the time, I go about foraging for food (for thought) such as magazines and books that abound in our home, and curl up in a corner with them.

I wake up every morning with a knot of excitement in my tummy, all ready for life, with a great deal of enthusiasm even if I don’t know what I’m so enthusiastic about.

If someone wants to play, I’m game. If someone wants to hug, I’m always up for it. If someone wants me to go fetch or cook something, I’ll go do that too, with a grin.

The most difficult part is sleeping / napping with abandon, like a dog. The abdominal muscles are curled in tension much of the time out of old habits. So I’m practising surrender, like a dog. I’m learning to not worry about where the next meal will come from, to trust the universe to provide it to me, like a dog. I’m learning to not worry about the future, to not dwell in the past, to just be in the moment, like a dog.

I’m not all there yet, of course. But today I caught myself in the mirror, my hair dishevelled, my face devoid of makeup. No I’m not looking like a dog (what on earth were you thinking?). I’m merely looking much younger, and happy. 

There you go. It’s a revolutionary new anti-ageing therapy. I should patent it. 


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