My heart is buried in the back yard.

My dog died.  Actually, it was my son’s dog, but my heart adopted him.

Now, this is a blog about the sacred space of the mind, and I had never thought about keeping a dog there. but well, it’s official.  My sacred mind how has a guard dog.  And let me tell you, he’s fearsome.  And he’s majestic.  He always has been and he always will be.  And he will always have a place in that space in my head and in my heart.

In the book I am writing, I talk about the connection we had.  I talk about the end of his life.  I’m not so sure about putting that in the book because it’s so difficult and I understand how reading through it could be painful for some who have lost their tangible, soulful connection with their own majestic beast (or fluffy buddy, whatever).

Champ suffered when he was just a little guy.  None of us know to what extent, but we do know that when we got him, we tried to give him a good life.  It’s funny, but I’ve read so much about how humans protect themselves when they’ve been abused by erecting an internal self that is impervious to harm.  Some call it a false self and it consists of things like arrogance, deflection, anger, rage…  Champ was kind of an arrogant beast, it was so fascinating, but a couple of us totally had his heart.  It’s interesting how in this case, abuse and neglect may have created in this animal the same sort of behavior it creates in humans.  I’ll bet there’s information on that out there in wild, wild interweb somewhere.

How is this dog-mindset possible in an animal, right?  Is man’s best friend typically arrogant?  No.  Those creatures are called “cats”.  Man’s best friend is often kind to a fault- to the point where they keep coming back for more even if you have had your fill of them and shoo them for a bit.  They are ever ready to contribute to your cause.

I think the sacred things are the things you don’t readily share.  I didn’t want to share my dying dog with the rest of the world because he was mine (and my son’s, of course).  I wanted him to come home with us.  His suffering was private, to the extent that I didn’t even want our other dog to see him in this pointedly unmajestic state.  Champ was regal and wise and kind of a bastard.  I didn’t ever want the world to see him as otherwise.  I wanted to protect my beloved beast from scrutiny, and possibly even more so, I wanted to protect him from the reality of the death that was slowly stealing him away.  The picture I posted of the dog for this blog entry isn’t even our dog, but his eyes are similar.  That’s sometimes how this sacred thing works.  It can be intensely personal and highly protected and painful.

That relationship/companionship with Champ was and will always be significant to me. As it turns out, all of our minds should have guard dogs.  And maybe remembering the way that Champ loved me and would have defended my life will help me to remember to defend my mind against all the bullshit waiting to jump in (although I gotta tell ya, I’m pretty good at building tall fences at this point).

We have to use all things for the greater good, and we will.  Even the simple memory of a complex dog.  So may we always remember to love and guard our minds the way our dogs love and guard us. ❤


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