For 11 years she has comforted me through my troubles.
For 11 years she has filled me with love.
For 11 years she has loved me.
For 11 years I treasured every moment.
For 11 years now… and I am fully aware that we are running out of time.
Here she lies, sleeping next to me on the sofa.
Dreaming a dogs dream with all paws moving.
She is perfect.
How will I ever do this without her sleeping next to me on the sofa?
This is Raya.
She is perfect. Even with her imperfections.
She keeps me safe when I am scared.
She watches over me as she sleeps on the foot of my bed.
This is Raya.
She is perfect. Even with her imperfections.
When she is happy, I smile with her.
When she is hurt, I fix her pain.
When she needs help, I stop what I am doing and I help.
When I am sad, she comforts me.
She makes what I do possible. She makes the bad days good. She makes the good days fantastic. She makes the horrible days bearable. Through every move, through every fight, through every depression, through every tear, through every laugh, through every moment of joy, through every moment of peace, through every moment of serenity, through every nightmare, through every feeling of desperately wanting to run away, through all of the times that I wanted to scream at the top of my lungs, through all of the times I prayed for death, through all of the times my insides were screaming so hard it made me feel like I was going to burst, through all of the times I felt my heart break, through all of the times I felt my heart mend again. She was there. Depression has many faces and she has seen them all and helped me overcome. She has given me reason because her love deserves attention.
….. and we are running out of time. The possible will become impossible.
This is Raya.
She is perfect.
She is mine and I am hers.
I am hers and she is mine.
We are equal in love, in pain, in joy, in life.
I am proud to be her human. All of the mistakes I have made in the past… with Raya, I did it right.
She is perfect.
When you look into her eyes you can see her soul. Her character, her goofiness, her lust for life, her love, her mind, her cleverness. Her loyalty. I sometimes wonder what she sees when she looks back into my eyes. Does she see everything that I see? Would she also call me perfect? All I see in that connection is love.
She is perfect.
My Raya, my girl. All my love. We will live forever.
To take us away from the madness of present times!
The following is republished with the very kind permission of Belas Bright Ideas.
It makes a wonderful alternative to The State of the World as featured the last three days.
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Tributaries
Black is the color of undefined space,
of chasms so large many fear to fall,
inky background behind the night rainbow
void of busy-ness of day,
flowing cleanly down the split shaft
of an old quill pen, seeping deeply
into dimples of vellum;
—
Striking contrast, none or full phases
of lunation, back to black, again
and anon, ebony skin bejeweled
in glorious hues, unruly hair
and wild patterned dress,
cradle of civilization suffused
with damp earthen heat;
—
Unsterile, untamed, U as in unify, more
like u-turn, what did I miss, back to origins,
basics, unity in community, necessitating
complementarity, muting
blinding tonalities of white;
—
Born into a dusky womb, darkness follows
into death, settled now into the earth,
home we take for granted
until breath and water are gone.
Just be enthralled by Marc Métral and his talking dog Wendy.
Jean sent me the link to the following that had, in turn, been sent to her.
It features the show on ITV in the UK, Britain’s Got Talent, that has been running for many years. Verified on the BGT website by the 10 Years link:
Some of our favourite acts from the past ten years took to the BGT stage to pay tribute to a decade of finding amazing talent!
But the fun doesn’t end there. We’re on the lookout for even more incredible talent and we’re coming to a town near you soon! Find out where we’re holding auditions and apply now for the new series of Britain’s Got Talent!
Anyway, without further ado just watch this act. It’s not just the judges that are wowed; you will be as well!
Marc Métral and his talking dog Wendy wow the judges|Britain’s Got Talent 2015
Published on Apr 11, 2015
The Judges are left open-mouthed when Marc Métral introduces his talking dog Miss Wendy.
“Congratulations, in the nine years of doing this show, Simon has said he wanted a dog that could meow or sing, and you did both, incredible,” says Amanda.
Simon is totally smitten!
Yesterday I used as a sub-heading “I will never, ever tire of the wonderful connections made by this blog!”
I wrote that before Sydney sent in a guest post which reached out to me, to Jeannie and, undoubtedly, will reach out to many others. Sydney further validated the power of the wonderful connections that blogging brings.
Here’s how it came about.
Not that long ago, there was a new follower to this place. As is so frequently the case that new follower was also a blogger. Their blog is called very beautifully: Recovery For All Of My Heart. As I always try to do, I went across to leave a ‘thank you’ note. I also read the About page that I want to republish here by way of my introduction to Sydney.
Hello, I am in recovery from an eating disorder, depression and anxiety. The way I got to the best place in my mind is by changing my perspective.
In this blog, I use my new open-mindedness to show the world the beauty I see in hopes that others will then see the beauty in themselves. For me, all it took was to see the beauty in myself, but I needed someone to help me see it first. My hope is to be that person for others.
There is a way to see the good in every piece of you. You can get your mindset to see what others love about you. The proof of everyone’s beauty lies in changing your perspective and this blog hopes to put into light the beauty in everyone that ever existed.
So now to Sydney’s post. (And if you want to understand why I chose the title to this post, then please read right down to the end.)
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Mindfulness and a dog named Bailey
By Sydney R. February 23rd., 2017
Bailey
When I was 21 years old, I got a hound boxer puppy named Bailey. Previously, I had a dog my mom and I raised when I was seven; she was named Rachel.
I only speak of Bailey in this post because of a certain situation I want to talk about, but I also wanted to mention how amazing Rachel was too.
Anyway, I raised Bailey to be the sweet almost two-year-old he is today. He is not a normal dog to me. This is because I believe him to be extraordinary (so original for dog owners, I know), and also because I have struggled with my mental health.
I have struggled with depression and he has changed my life for the better. One day last year I was having a very hard time with my depression. I wanted to just lay in bed and quit my job and begin isolating again. I wanted to just sleep and not fight the thoughts and just let them rattle on inside of my mind while I lay there.
I grabbed my dog as he was lying next to me and held onto him ready to remain in my negative thoughts for all eternity. Then something changed: I felt his fur. I felt my cheek against his fur. I heard his sweet little breathing that used to put me to sleep when he laid on my chest when he was a puppy. I was being mindful without even realizing it.
I was aware of everything I was feeling when holding this thing that is so dear to my heart.
Suddenly, all the pain went away. I was reminded of this feeling I can have while holding my dog. I can fight this depression and I can have a wonderful life. If you ever are feeling extremely sad or have any type of negative urges, and this can be about anything, grab your furry little one and just stay in the moment until they pass.
And why is this?
Research has shown that if you look into your dogs eyes, the hormonal response is activated just like the one that is activated when you look at infants. Scientists took blood samples of dogs and their owners before and during time spent petting. The results were that the levels of oxytocin went up in humans during a petting session of a dog and it was at very similar levels of new mothers and their infants.
Even more amazing, dogs had the same levels in their blood as well, showing how happy they are around their owners. During my depression that night, holding onto my dog was not just helping me overcome my sadness, he was having a nice time as well.
Now what I am guessing is that if you are sitting down, petting your dog, but not really paying much attention, your dog will be happy, but your oxytocin levels will not be as high as they could be. When you are mindful and staying in the moment whilst petting your dog, you could be seriously happy, to the point where your oxytocin levels from your dog stops you from ruminating on your negative thoughts.
Don’t just pet your dog when you are upset…make sure you are completely in the moment.
Notice your body and notice what your hands and arms are feeling as you wrap your arms around your dog. Let your hands and all of your arms feel the fur. Use all of your senses. Make sure you hear your dog and do not let your thoughts block out being in the moment. Regular petting of the dog is enjoyable. Mindful petting of a dog could change your life, like it did mine.
Now I will always know that I have something to go to when I feel depressed. This is extremely important because one huge part of depression is hopelessness. This is the feeling that you will always feel depressed.
With a dog, you have hope to get out of those feelings. I know that I have my dog to go to and I will never fear being sad forever again. I always have the mindful petting of Bailey or Rachel that will make the negative thoughts drain away.
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Good people, I am genuinely humbled by both Sydney’s desire to share this with you, and by the magic of having a dog in our life.
This is a very special guest post from a very special person.
My father died on December 20th., 1956. I had turned twelve some six weeks before this day.
My mother, some eighteen years younger than my father, in due course remarried a professional musician, Richard Mills, and in 1959 my mother gave birth to a girl who was named Eleanor. Those who can do the arithmetic will calculate that I was fifteen years the elder brother to Eleanor. Indeed, almost to the day for I was born on November 8th and Eleanor was born on November 16th.
Thus followed a very special relationship as Eleanor grew up regarding me as her big, protective brother. I am so fortunate in having close relationships with both my sisters: Eleanor, who lives in Johannesburg, and Elizabeth, who lives in Tokyo. (Happy Birthday Elizabeth for today, the 21st February.)
Thus it is with very great pleasure indeed that I offer a guest post from Eleanor.
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Zine: The Lover of Many Species
by Eleanor Hamilton, February 21st., 2017
Zina, now well past the puppy days!
We bought Zina as a puppy just over 2 years ago. She was the most adventurous of the litter and a “liver nose” Ridgeback, which is a silky type with no black markings on her face.
We knew from the onset that she was a bright dog, but usually for her own benefit.
She quickly learnt that if she was shut out of the house she should run around the house trying every door in case one was unlocked. She did this by stretching up so her front legs acted like arms on the handle. She also managed to prise open our sliding patio doors to get in on one occasion.
We soon realized and made sure that all doors were locked.
Living in South Africa we have some extra security measures you might not be familiar with. Obviously most people are aware of high walls and electric fences, but some houses have internal security gates (often called slam gates). We use one at the bottom of the stairs just as a precaution as we don’t activate any alarms. Sometimes if we want the dogs downstairs (and off the beds!) we lock this security gate.
We were mystified to find that after a few minutes Zina was jumping up and opening our bedroom door after obviously negotiating the security gate! On one occasion we thought we’d hide and look over the stairs to watch. She had learnt that if she put her paws inside the door frame she could shake the metal and gradually work the lock loose. We hoped the burglars weren’t as clever!
Her intelligence also spreads to her understanding of the other animals in our house and the need to look after them and make sure they are happy. She is quite enthusiastic in licking everything to say hello, which doesn’t always go down too well. Her friend, Dylan the Jack Russell, is well used to her large boisterous nature and puts up with these slobbering kisses!
Our cat usually tolerates the first kiss then decides to gently warn her with a little pat of her paw. After that Zina is a very polite dog.
What is most unusual is her attitude to my bearded dragon. I rescued it from an owner who was mistreating it and although I would never choose one as a pet, I couldn’t bear to see it badly neglected.
Zina always goes over and gives him the usual kiss, which strangely is accepted by Blizzard (the lizard!)
I usually discourage Zina from going on too long with this greeting as although Blizzard is tolerant he can also get fed up.
Since developing her newfound maturity and maternal urges, she has become very loving to all our family of pets. It is lovely to see how caring this dog has become and how she definitely puts herself as alpha female and keeps her pack happy and safe.
[Ed: Those feet bottom right look strangely human!]
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What a heart-warming account of yet another special, loving dog.
Thank you, Eleanor.
I asked Eleanor if she wanted to offer you dear readers a little of her background. This is what she sent me:
As you may know, I’m Paul’s younger sister. I grew up with cats, as mum never liked dogs. I secretly always wanted a dog and always loved those models of the Labrador which were used to advertise the guide dog association.
After moving to South Africa it was very common to have dogs, frequently 2 or 3, so my first dog was a Labrador, closely followed by a rescue Jack Russell, another rescue Jack Russell then our Ridgeback.
[Ed: I added the following]
Eleanor Hamilton
Studio Music Teacher, Redhill School
Website: http://www.redhill.co.za
The school’s mission is to be a world-class, South African learning community, building leaders for their time.
Redhill School is a Member of the Independent Schools Association of Southern Africa (ISASA).
I’m sure that I voice a hope from me and many others that there will be more animal stories from sister Eleanor.
Yesterday, in came an email that brought a tear to my eye:
Dear Paul,
I came across your blog this morning and saw the post on ‘We shall not forget them’ to pay tribute to our fur babies.
My black Labrador, Max, crossed the Rainbow Bridge on November 28th. He’s on my mind all the time and I have constantly been trying to do little things that make me feel his presence.
I was hoping I could pay a tribute to him on your blog. Please find a small poem and a portrait of him that I had penned down earlier. This is the original picture I sketched of him.
The email came from Samyuktha Sridharand it is a wonderful honour and privelege to offer Sam’s tribute to Max.
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Max, our dark Prince
by Samyuktha Sridhar
Max, our handsome black labrador who was eleven and a half years old crossed to the other side of the Rainbow Bridge on 28 November, 2016. We miss him like crazy and it hasn’t yet fully sunk in.
There is no way we can make the pain go away, but we need to move on and learn to live with the beautiful memories. Every person has a different way of dealing with loss and sadness. I like to put my thoughts on paper. It helps me get things out of my system.
So here’s what I did..
If memories could bring us closer, if tears could bridge the gap
I’d cross the oceans to see you, in warm wet hugs we’d wrap
I opened my eyes to reality, to warm wet tears instead
The pain in my heart was real, as the voices in my head
Echoed, “No teary goodbyes were exchanged, no words of farewell spoken,
Would it have made it easier, if we had that chance?” I’m torn!
If I knew t’was the last time, that you’d look into my eyes
I’d have cradled your head upon my lap, stayed by you as you lay.
Were you in pain that fateful night, when the big brown clock struck three?
Sadly I’ll never know, would I? If you’d reached out to me.
With every breath you took you filled, my heart with so much love
You took a piece of my heart with you, the piece that belonged to you.
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Again and again we are reminded of what our dogs mean to us. So beautifully expressed by Sam.
Please, if you want to offer a tribute to your dearly departed dog do share it on these pages.
No, that subtitle is wrong. It should be: Science brings to light the wonderful history of dogs and humans!
Approximately seven years ago I published a series of posts. Each post was a segment of a BBC Horizon documentary entitled: The Secret Life of the Dog. Inevitably as so often happens when BBC programmes unofficially find their way on to YouTube those videos have long disappeared from sight.
So imagine the joy when Jean and I were browsing the web site Top Documentary Films to find that the full BBC Horizon episode was available.
The documentary is an hour long and is unmissable viewing for anyone who is interested in the history of mankind back in the days of hunting and gathering. If you are also a lover of dogs and you haven’t seen the programme then, in two words WATCH IT!
Here’s a clip from the Horizon episode. A deeply emotional and moving clip.
Now I can’t insert the Top Documentary video as I can with a YouTube video.
But I can link to it, and republish the written introduction.
We have an extraordinary relationship with dogs – closer than with any other animal on the planet. But what makes the bond between us so special?
Research into dogs is gaining momentum, and scientists are investigating them like never before. From the latest fossil evidence, to the sequencing of the canine genome, to cognitive experiments, dogs are fast turning into the new chimps as a window into understanding ourselves.
Where does this relationship come from? In Siberia, a unique breeding experiment reveals the astonishing secret of how dogs evolved from wolves. Swedish scientists demonstrate how the human/dog bond is controlled by a powerful hormone also responsible for bonding mothers to their babies.
Why are dogs so good at reading our emotions? Horizon meets Betsy, reputedly the world’s most intelligent dog, and compares her incredible abilities to those of children. Man’s best friend has recently gone one step further – helping us identify genes responsible for causing human diseases.
Trust me, if you haven’t seen this documentary and you have dogs in your life it will change the way you appreciate and love your wonderful dogs.
I’m going to close this post with a photograph you have seen many times before, via the home page of this blog.
Simply because I know for thousands of you who have dogs in your lives there is nothing more special, nothing more intimate, nothing more magical than the eye-to-eye bond between your dog and you.
The second set of photographs by Russian photographer Andy Seliverstoff.
The first set of these stunning photographs was last week. I shall repeat the background to the photographer that was also published a week ago.
Little Kids and Big Dogs
Andy Seliverstoff is a 58-year-old professional photographer from St. Petersburg, Russia. A few years ago some of Seliverstoff’s friends asked him to take photos of their daughter Alice in a park. They had their gigantic Great Dane, Sean, with them, so they decided to incorporate him into the photos. After seeing the results, he knew he was on to something special.
Seliverstoff did another shoot with a child featuring big dogs, and told BuzzFeed News that he was “deeply touched” by the work. That was four years ago and he’s been a dog photographer ever since.
The project has become his passion, which he chronicles in a book called “Little Kids and Their Big Dogs.“
All of the photos are taken in St. Petersburg. Its extensive parks and colder climate help create some spectacular shots.
Seliverstoff said the goal of the series wasn’t just to create beautiful pictures, but to capture the interaction between the children and the animals.
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Beautiful almost beyond words! These were sent to me by Dordie from next door. Dearest Dordie has sent me another set of stunningly magical photographs that I will be sharing with you from next Sunday for a few weeks.
Or, more specifically, what Diego meant for Laura Bruzzese. (This will be the second in the series We Shall Not Forget Them.)
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Dog Love In August
August is the start of the dying season. Garden things begin their slow shrink into the earth, the days grow shorter and cooler, lazy ocean- or mint-scented summer days snap into rigid schedules of work and school.
August is also the month that I lost Diego, my first dog. You can get acquainted with Diego here, a post I wrote a few days before he died. But I would like to share a little more now, on the second anniversary of his departure.
Diego was a poser, in a very literal sense of the word. He loved having his picture taken; in fact, he insisted on it whenever he saw me holding the camera. This picture, for example: it was taken the day I brought my daughter home from the hospital, the day after 21 hours of hard labor produced an eight-and-a-half-pound baby who actually stopped halfway out of my body, looked around, and scowled before resuming her reluctant journey onto the planet. (She was 12, twelve days overdue, FYI all you mothers out there who can surely feel my pain.)
There is something screaming in the bed. Please make it stop before it explodes.
I laid baby Isabella down, stepped back with the camera, looked up, and there he was: Diego, staring. Fifty-eight pounds of solid, unmoving dog. Insisting that I photograph him, too, with this creature that he wasn’t sure if he should guard against or lick. This child who personified the singular emotion of furious for the first nine weeks of her life (if she was not sleeping or eating, she was screaming).
Oh, hi Aunt Rosie. I know you’ve passed on, but I’ll bet you can still hear that screaming baby wherever you are.
When my doula told me that the colic or distemper or petite innards or whatever it was making Isabella so unhappy would resolve itself in about nine weeks, I said oh, that’s nice. But I won’t be alive for nine weeks of this. I’ll be in an asylum acquainting myself with a selection of opiates, or at the bottom of the mighty Rio Grande; so behold, an orphan.
But somehow, I survived. And Diego was part of it.
You see, from the very beginning, it was just us — the two of us, the three of us. I was abandoned by my husband before Isabella was born, a painful time that I don’t often write about.
Within a matter of weeks, the married-and-expecting life I’d known was gone, and I was left to fumble around with the pieces, a wreckage sitting on a pile of broken glass in the dark. The small hours of it were the worst, waking up alone and panicked in the middle of the night wondering how (or if) I would live through the next weeks and years. And Diego was always there, a silent and comforting presence curled at the foot of the bed or coming up to lick my tears if I was crying, which was basically all the time. He was always there.
I have a teenager now and those days seem ancient. While I rebuilt my life, Isabella grew up and Diego grew old. And finally, in his sixteenth year, he began to deteriorate to the point of pain. I knew he wouldn’t be with me much longer and I had already called the vet to ask her how it worked — when do you know it’s time? Do I take him to the office, or do you come to the house? Will he feel anything? I planned to schedule an appointment soon; I hadn’t had to make this decision before and it was a very painful.
On the morning of August 9 before I left for work, I told Diego that we would have to say good-bye soon because his body wasn’t working right anymore. I told him that I loved him and it was okay for him to go. Over and over I told him I loved him.
Less than two hours later, he drowned in the pond.
I think it was his way of avoiding the vet (he hated the clinic), and maybe sparing me that particular pain. I’m not going to say that I wasn’t devastated. But rather than remembering the urgent phone call at work from Isabella, or the vision of him when I got home, or my step-father struggling to carry the terrible weight of him away, I like to imagine Diego simply being received by the fish and toads. Delivered from his pain by warm water, wrapped in a blanket of lilies.
Anyone who has cared for pets perhaps knows that there is one, a special one, who will always occupy the largest piece of real estate in your heart, though others may follow. That was Diego for me.
But now we’re lucky enough to share our lives with another dog, the rascally, neurotic, road trip-loving Velma. I’ll end this post with a short video of her that reminds me of exactly what I love about dogs: their absolute and abundant connection with life, free of judgement, agenda, or desire to be anything other than what they are. That’s what I think of every time I see Velma in her Writhe of Exquisite Happiness. Perfect contentment of being.
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Laura wrote and published this back in August, 2012. But her words, emotions and feelings are those that never age. Indeed, I would add her courageous words.
![[Ed: Those feet bottom right look strangely human!]](https://learningfromdogs.com/wp-content/uploads/2017/02/21b5953a-1a83-47f4-9ea8-24e594d5accf2.jpg)
Learning from Dogs 