I am in awe of my dog.
I simply find him fascinating — the way he walks through the world. As though it’s Mr. Moo’s Universe and we’re all along for the ride.
And not just because he has 0% body fat, either.
Every time I watch him, I marvel at what it must be like to live without a shred of self-consciousness the way he does. He doesn’t care if people look at him — actually, I imagine he assumes they will and figures it’s his due.
“He’s so cute,” a woman told me the other day.
“Yeah, he thinks so, too,” I answered.
And while I understand this zest for life describes most dogs — and, perhaps, all creatures who boast a 0% body fat ratio — I think Moo has taken it to the next level.
He’s perfected existing.
It’s honestly quite aspirational.
You witness a guy react to seeing the vast power and beauty of the ocean for the first time by trying to attack it, and you can’t help but be impressed. It was there to behold him, not the other way around.
Thus, taking a cue from Moo — with some admitted hand-holding by my therapist at times — I’ve decided to give this whole “The world is my oyster” attitude a try.
I gotta say, it ain’t bad.
For probably the first time ever, I’m walking with my head up, instead of staring at my feet. If I want to play, I play. Sleep, I sleep. If I feel the need for attention, I ask for it. If not, I go chew on something by myself for awhile. And I don’t apologize for any of it.
I’ve even worn shorts in public — THREE TIMES. To prove to myself that I won’t spontaneously combust if others see my knees, yes, but also because if Moo can strut around the neighborhood in nothing but a little vest, then damn it, I can don a pair of cut-offs and not cry about it. Better yet, I can try to strut a bit, too. (Still working on this one, but hey, fake it ’til you make it, right?)
Now, don’t get me wrong. Obviously, there are a few behaviors I’m not likely to emulate anytime soon. I won’t stop to talk to my neighbor then pee on her fence. I’ll refrain from picking fights with motorcycles, bikes and Mountain Line buses. And I don’t plan on threatening to kill the postman either.
And there are certainly qualities Moo has that can’t be achieved by mere mimicry.
Like my vet announcing he has “the ideal body type.”
I’ve been waiting my whole life to hear those words. Oh well. We can’t all be so lucky.
Nevertheless, I continue to learn from my canine companion and will keep trying my best to follow his confident, enjoy-the-moment example.
Every morning, I wake up and say this affirmation to myself.
You can say it, too, if it helps:
Do like Moo.
Bite the waves.
Katie McDowell is the managing editor and lifestyles columnist for The Dominion Post. Email her your dog’s secrets to living the best life at kmcdowell@dominionpost.com.
