(Professional writer’s bio in About)
I do a backbend, Leonard comes over to check on me. I don’t know if he just thinks it’s weird, or if he senses my heart rate climbing and is concerned. Either way, he’ll flop down on my chest to pin me to the floor.
Leonard is eight as I write this. I was allowed to adopt him because he was a fox hound who refused to hunt1. I wanted a chill pup. I got a chill pup. My husband is Norwegian and didn’t know what a “dog pile” was until Leonard came into our home. Now, when my husband wants to snuggle on the sofa, there’s an extra 45 kilos on his chest.
Maybe more than the Buddha, Leonard is a constant reminder to me to stay calm—despite whatever is happening, or has happened. He didn’t have an easy life before he came to us. When he was a puppy, his chest was ripped open by barbed wire while he was chasing a hare. He had a large keloid scar that hung down from his chest and needed surgery. When we drove through the snow to pick him up he was living in a shed, sleeping on straw2. He didn’t trust men, and was terrified of anyone wearing a baseball cap, or flannel plaids. We aren’t sure what that was about, but it took him several years to overcome it. Now, he thinks everyone is his friend. Or, as my husband would tell you: he’s on a diet, and thinks that everyone might have a treat in their hand.
Leonard doesn’t run. But I do. I run slow and steady on dirt trails, listening to the birds. Few things make me happier. But growing up, moving every few months, in California, Nevada, and Kentucky, didn’t often get out and into nature. I’d close the door to my bedroom and read books. Indiscriminately. Beautifully written words of any kind felt like charms. Now I think I have the best of both worlds.
At eighteen, I left the trailer park and all most of the stereotypical baggage that goes along with being what people often call, “one of those people”. I’ve travelled as far away as Kyrgystan and Japan, and settled on the green moorland of southwest Norway. I got a PhD, and was treated like a rock star in Struga3. “But you can’t take the trailer park out of the girl.”
A lot like Leonard, I was never properly socialised. But also like Leonard, I’m still changing as a “mature” creature. I’m coming to terms with things now4. And I’m trying to cultivate compassion for the world’s forever-and-ever pain, without going under.
I’m learning to lie in the sunshine for a little while every day, and just chill.
I am very happily married, but Leonard was my choice. It took nearly two years for the two gentlemen to learn to appreciate each other. Leonard is a nod to Leonard Cohen (of course).
I’m not making any judgements about how people care for their working dogs, I know very little about those norms. But it is a far cry from the cushy dog beds (yes, beds) he has now.
Pardon my absence. Me & substack have some trouble. Please know if you write, I read. My wish for you is simple - happiness (whatever, whyever, no matter what). Smart man said, "to exist is a gift," which I take as true. Don't always feel that way, but my lies are mine alone and matter nothing to the universe. Leonard seems a good friend to have.
I love your dog! I love the message your doggy has taught you. Bless Leonard! What a remarkable being. Thank you for sharing this beautiful essay.