Life with Dogs: Sharing Beds, Unexpected Telepathy, & Emotion Sensation

It’s 5:30 AM in Dallas, Texas, November 8, 2009.

Up until right now, my dog, Lucid and I have shared a bed.  This morning, I told her it’s time to sleep on the floor, and something bewildering happened between us.  This event brought forth the desire to write about a series of conceptually psychological ideas I have on the emotional aspect of human nature and its positive and negative effects in our relationship with animals.

My dog has always slept in my bed.  I only planned to cuddle with her for the first 3 days of our existence together; those Canadian nites were cold.  I knew it would become difficult if I didn’t cut her off then, but I didn’t do anything about it.  As the months and Lucid matured, something happened… my single air mattress bed deflated.

Upon moving to a different, colder house, with a big queen bed, and bigger windows, I convinced myself that cuddling was good for both of us.  Then, I made a superquick {literally} overnight decision to leave Canada and move back to Texas for dog training school.  Texas was darn cold, too.

Now it’s fall, and I haven’t been sleeping well.  I’m visiting my sister in Dallas, it’s warm, and I can’t get comfortable.  I definitely can’t sleep.  {Mica, sweet sister, it’s not you or your comfy guest bed!} I’ve tossed and turned, to wake up at 5 AM and find 50 pounds of sprawling dog body, emanating heat where I’m already hot… It’s no wonder I’m uncomfortable – Lucid takes up the whole bed!

I gently pull the covers off of her, and watch until she opens her eyes and looks up at me.  I don’t move as I simply state in a quiet voice, ”Lucid, it’s been a long time coming, and I love you so much,” then reach out and pet her once, slowly from the tip of her nose to her tail, ”I’m so sorry, but you’re gonna have to sleep on the floor from now on.”

I don’t expect what happens next.  She sighs one deep, giant sigh, eyes still on mine, and slowly stretches, steps over me, and jumps right off the bed, onto her own fuzzy bed.  I had not pointed, used a commanding voice, broken eye contact, or said a single word that she associates as a command, such as “off”, “down”, or “move”.  I simply talked, and she understood the message.  This is remarkable!

Whoever said that dogs can’t understand our words may be right.  It’s not like they know our language.  They make simple associations to words repeated over time, and by consequence/reward history, but there is no scientive evidence which suggests they understand complete sentences.

However, I believe that everything, including what we do/say, is made up of tiny atoms of energy.  If you’ve ever seen the experiment, where they tape a word to water and freeze it, and the ice crystals take on patterns, you know what I’m talking about.  In that experiment, the ice crystals of words with positive associations are beautiful, symmetrical, snowflake-like creations.  The crystals of negatively-associated words are non-symmetrical, and some are quite ugly.

All this to say, I believe that our true intention radiates energetically through whatever message we TRY to convey. I’ll explain.  Prepare yourself, I’m about to get deep.  {and please remember, I’m no scientist, just an observer, and this is my own hypotheses.}

If we are not honest about our true intentions through our communication with friends and family, acquaintances, ourselves, or even animals, it can be felt by the other party.

With humans, it may not be immediately obvious, and we often get a weird gut-feelings that something is wrong. If that feeling isn’t placed immediately, that thought {and the emotional energy of that thought}, sinks deep into the subconscious, where it may or may not reside forever.  Usually it resurfaces, but sometimes we don’t remember the specific moment when we had that negative gut-feeling, so we may misunderstand our own emotional reaction to it’s resurfacing.  If this emotional energy does not resurface, it will stay inside us, taking up space within our being.  It will not disappear, and it will show up at {seemingly} random times in our lifetime.

I say this about humans because we are complicated, physically and mentally.  We oftentimes have overwhelming emotions, and we possess incredibly complex intellect and the ability to reason.  We feel a lot, we think a lot, and we reason with our feelings and thoughts.  Our emotions are: Anger, Fear, Sadness, Humiliation, and Happiness {which I tend to refer to as “glee”, as I don’t believe in true happiness – it is fleeting}.  By nature, unless we seek to teach ourselves, humans spend more time brewing about the past, and contemplating the future, than purely enjoying the present moment.

Dogs, on the other hand, are instinctive, natural beings.  Sure, ours are domesticated, but that only means that they learn our social structure, rather than their natural one.  Their core being at puppyhood is pure, and they spend their time in the present.  I imagine {sadly} that their understanding of human nature must be so difficult at times, because humans are, arguably, the most emotional of all species.  Wild canines interact with other animals with simpler emotions.  Dogs in our homes deal with our anger/rage, sadness/depression, frustration/anxiety, fear {a HUGE trigger for dogs}, humiliation, and every now and then, glee.

Healthy dogs don’t get angry for no reason.  In the wild, they are territorial and competitive, but it’s natural selection: eat or be eaten.  I believe that the inner complexities of an emotional human being is felt purely by the dog.  It does not matter how well we think we hide or  mask what we truly feel inside.  And sometimes, perhaps we’ve even hidden it from ourselves.

The healthier, more honest and open we can be with ourselves, others, and of course, our dogs, the better.  This will improve our communication, and ultimately, our relationship with the world and everything in it.

To conclude, Lucid is a constant reminder of how inspiring ONENESS can be between human and canine. I will cherish that moment with her forever, and strive to create a foundation for more experiences like that one.  At least this time, I think Suzanne Clothier {author of my all-time favorite dog book, If a Dog’s Prayers Were Answered, Bones Would Rain From the Sky} would be proud.

Miabella & Lucid.

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