Rosie's love

My dog, Rosie, worships the ground I walk on. That may be an understatement. When I take the trash cans out to the street, she leaps with unbridled joy upon my return, as if I’d been away for days. If I come home after being gone for a few hours, she runs circles around the back yard, unable to contain her excitement. If I were to go to the airport to pick up my son after he’d been away for a week, she would fall into a state of bliss upon our return---because of seeing me. Her love is constant and uncomplicated.

This morning when I emerged into the living room, I acknowledged Rosie briefly as she greeted me with delight, and then I put the kettle on and went to check my email.

And then I stopped myself. There she was, looking at me expectantly, eyes full of adoration, and there I was, absentmindedly noticing her in my peripheral vision while I got down to the “important” task of checking my email.

She was beside herself with happiness when I got down with her on the floor. I scratched and rubbed and loved her up, and she did what dogs do best—exude pure, unadulterated love. And the funny thing is, although I had originally felt a certain urgency to respond to an important email, my priorities restacked themselves as I sat with Rosie and remembered—again—that what I care most about on any given day is living with a heart full of love and enjoyment.

I got to thinking about how similar kids are to puppies. How often do our children wait in our periphery as we do important (“important?”) things? How many times do they end up going off to do their own thing after seeing that we’re busy? How often are we stingy with ourselves, putting a lid on how much love we allow ourselves to receive?

I’m not suggesting that parents stop to play with their children whenever they ask. It’s essential that kids learn to figure out how to entertain themselves without having a parent who drops whatever they’re doing when their child announces, “I’m bored.”

But I do know that if we want our fifteen-year old to confide in us about how much vodka was at last night’s party, or look to us for help in figuring out how to handle a friend’s betrayal, it’s a good idea to get down on the floor with them when they still believe our attention is a prize.

I’m convinced that the beauty of a child’s heart (and we can throw in doggies, as well) is in large part what keeps the world sane. When you drink in their love and affection, it feeds their sweet hearts, and yours as well.

So today—remember what matters, and see if you can fit in a moment for a scratch or a cuddle. Stretch your heart a little wider and receive that perfect love that might otherwise go unnoticed. It might just make your day.