To Be More Like a Dog

To Be More Like a Dog

On a recent Sunday, driving to early church, we saw a man, perhaps in his 40s, with a dog, a black Labrador Retriever, on a leash. They were walking along the sidewalk in a modest semi-urban neighborhood. The dog, stretching its sphere to the length of the leash, even gently pulling the man to extend the edge to a new sphere, moved attentively over the concrete and yards to investigate everything within sight, touch, sound, and especially smell. Never really stopping, even when paused at some point to inspect and sniff more closely, it found every object, every spot, to be of at least some interest, and certain objects and spots to be of intense interest. Exploring the world about, the dog seemed to consider nothing unworthy of attention, whether in passing or in thorough-going investigation, to the fullness of its canine capacity.

One could do worse than to be more like a dog in discovering the world around and about to be so absorbing.