WISDOM FROM THE END OF THE LEASH.

My little dog, Gretchen, loves to go for a walk. If I go anywhere near the peg on the wall from

which her leash dangles, she takes a position on the floor immediately below and casts longing upward looks. The moment I finally reach for the leash, she comes unhinged. Her tail wags so hard it literally thumps against her sides, and she jumps and barks in joy.

On most days our route is the same. Yet Gretchen drinks in every step as if it were a first time experience. Even on days when I feel busy or distracted, I find myself getting drawn into the way she seems entirely enchanted with our little hike. Granted, she lives a worry-free life, but I cannot help but wonder if I should not strive to mimic her happiness, sans the tail wagging and barking.

I admire her ability to be delighted by simple things. The scents that float on the breeze, the noises of nature and sightings of any other creatures are both individually and collectively savored. And there are times when I am humbled by beautiful things that I overlook until she shows them to me.

She enjoys being in the company of her human. In today’s ever-connected world we routinely miss out on the sweet satisfaction of companionship. We complain how hard it is to schedule time to get together with those whom we enjoy, yet we seem content to spend that precious time staring at the screen of our cell phone. When I am with Gretchen, I feel the fullness of her undivided attention and the appreciation of mine. I think she is trying to teach me to be the friend a friend would like to have.

I adore her curiosity. Once or twice a week, I like to avoid the pavement and forge a more rugged path. This thrills the little dog and she becomes a natural-born explorer. She dives head first into the large tufts of grass, chases insects and birds and begs to get her feet wet in the shallow waters of our pond. She never fears what she may find, but rather revels in the opportunity for discovery. Sometimes I wonder what I would experience and learn if I was more willing to be that keenly aware and welcoming.

Gretchen lives in the moment. It is something I both admire and envy. While I consciously try to use the time spent on our walks either clearing my mind or thinking in a creative way, I far too often catch myself revisiting something I can no longer change or worrying about something that has not even happened. Neither of these exercises have any value. I’m pretty sure our furry friends do not have the cognitive ability for lament or worry and for that they are blessed. Living in the moment and embracing its current value requires great discipline, yet the reward is immeasurable.

She is a creature of habit. She wants her walk every day. She wants her favorite snack at 6 p.m. And she likes to go to bed early and dislikes her human’s inability to do the same. Gretchen makes time for the things that make her happy and bring her joy. Our species regularly trades taking a few minutes each day doing something that grounds us for responding to yet another artificial deadline. She reminds me that when we take care of our self, we are much better prepared to take care of others.

Her treats cost a fortune and she is spoiled rotten, but I have to credit her with being really good at asking for what she wants - and it works. I think of how often we drop hints about what we want in relationships only to be resentful when the other party cannot decipher our complicated code. She’s teaching me to be more upfront and open with my communication. I certainly will not get everything I ask for, but the odds are bound to improve and everyone’s frustrations will be lessened.

Thanks for the lessons, Gretch. Who knew you were so darned smart?