But that's one of the big mysteries, right? How did we choose dogs, and how did they choose us?
What do we see when we stare into each other's eyes? What deep mamal bond lurks there? Why do we stoop for a strange dog and ask to scratch it's soft, irrestible ears? And why does that same dog give us the hard lean against our legs that tells us, "Hey, man, you're alright."
Oh I know that the biologists and tyhe anthropologists think they have answers to those questions. But their dry science isn't satisfying, doesn't roll around in the mud and revel in the mystery of it all.
There's something essential in the physical transactions between human and dog. When Bijou jumps onto the couch, circles a couple times, then plumps herself down next to me and sighs in contentment, that act sums up why we bring dogs into our lives: We savor the beauty of the fact that the miracles of their lives so comfortably intersect with the miracles of our own.
We invite our dogs into our lives as "just the family pet," but often they end up being canine candles that blaze and shine, illuminating our lives.
Dogs are miracles in the moment- and they teach us, in fact, that each moment is an absolute miracles-and they live in the eternal present. They don't fret over past mistakes, or dwell on past glories, either. The future is always now.
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