Dogs possess naturally, characteristics which certain humans have long struggled after in their effort to attain the state of consciousness necessary to apprehend the nature of Divine Reality, and achieve transcendence, in accordance with the Perennial Philosophy . The proponents of this timeless philosophy are concerned with, "the one, Divine Reality substantial to the manifold world of things and minds."  According to those who expound this wisdom tradition, the experience of this unity with the Divine Ground can only be apprehended by those who have fulfilled certain injunctions; making themselves "loving, pure in heart, poor in spirit. "  When I picked this book up in my paws and started reading it, I thought at first that it was describing the nature of dogs, for on our best days we certainly fulfill those requirements, and as your beloved pets we possess those characteristics. Loving? Check! That's our natural state. Pure in heart? Yes! We lack guile, are empathetic, more heart than mind.  Poor in Spirit?  Check! We don't have huge egos, we have great energy but it's directed towards the benefit of our family and our master, not towards self-aggrandizement.  Of course all bets are off if food enters the equation. Asceticism notwithstanding, partaking in sustenance is necessary for maintenance of our physical shells, and enables us to further explore the nature and workings of Heart and Mind.  That's my reasoning anyway, though some maintain that fasting is helpful in attaining the state of mind necessary for a peek into the beyond. In my opinion, meat is especially helpful. After all, dogs cannot live on bread alone. 

After further examination, I now see why it is, that only a few saintly humans are able to achieve the state of being necessary to attain this unitive knowledge of Divine Providence, that mystics, shamans and saints have described as "an unseen, over and above the seen."  Lower animals such as dogs are one with the Ground of All Being, but we lack the intellectual faculties which humans possess. We are loving, selfless, poor in spirit, pure in heart, - but because we lack the knowledge and faculties necessary to have "free will," we are limited in our ability to achieve man's final end.  The process of mortification , of dying to self, that the Perennial Philosophy prescibes must be a conscious decision.  It must be an act of the will to abandon the ego, to empty the self so that Grace can replace guile and machination.  The ego fights back against this assault on its power and control, and can lead to Dark Nights of the Soul . Still the Philosophy suggests that sooner or later, one way or another, this way or that, the final end of man will be this unitive knowledge of Reality. Sometimes I'm glad I'm just a dog, and that there is no one besides my master who has such high expectations of me.  Personally, I find it hard to avoid milkbones for one day , much less subjecting myself to forty days and forty nights of fasting.  Humans are given so many choices in what and who they identify with. They can choose the everyday path of ego and self, or they can do as some have, and take a chance on an unknown and unseen that demands mortification, but promises transcendence. For humans, this choice is a matter of free will.  Sounds kind of scary to a dog like me.

Buffy
Humanity's Best Friend

One of the most amiable animals in the annals of animation is Goofy D. Dawg, Disney's anthropomorphic friend to Mickey and Pluto.  Like me, he's a dog who thinks he's a human.  Pluto was created to be a pet to Mickey, and like a real dog he has a limited repertoire of expressions to get his point across.  Goofy is cast as a good natured human-like animal, who's not that bright.  He's clumsy, with limited intelligence. Still he became a favorite in the pantheon of cartoon characters because of his warmth, his optimism, and his good works.  He's "everyman" as he faces the challenges of life and figures out a way to come out on top, all the while retaining his good nature.  "Gawrsh, I wish I could be more like Goofy sometimes, and not take myself so seriously.

Goofy had a great run as a Disney character.  He started out as "Dippy Dawg" in the early 1930's in "Mickey's Revue."
His name morphed to Dippy the Goof, Goofy Goof, Goofy D. Dawg amongst others as he developed as a character.
He finally became known as simply "Goofy" and enjoyed success on television, in movies and in comic books.  Not bad work for a "halfwit and a shiftless, good natured hick" which is how one of his creators described him.  Goofy even had a brief superhero career as "Super Goof."  I'm not sure if that was a complementary name?

I'm going to take the good points from Goofy's character and career, and try to apply them to my own life.  Is it because he lacks intelligence that Goofy is able to maintain his optimism in the face of challenge and adversity ?  Does one have to be goofy to lack guile, and act with love and sweetness in the world.  I hope not, I want to be an intelligent dog , but still be a little goofy.  Judging from the comments I get from my master, I'm doing a good job at the goofy side of the equation. If you're having a bad day, or feeling down, try acting goofy and see what happens.
Works for me!

Buffy
Highly Intelligent Goofy Standard Poodle

There's a new inhabitant in the neighborhood who has already become a vexation to my spirit. His name is DC, and he's a cat who thinks he is so cool.  Suave, debonair, graceful and elegant; those are the words he uses to describe himself.  He and I have been engaging in verbal repartee ever since I met him last week. I must admit this Siamese Tomcat holds his own with me at times; an event which might shatter the confidence of a less arrogant dog. He get's my back up, he's so sure of himself. This is my first experience with the give and take of the cat and dog life, and it's been mentally draining dealing with this feline fellow.  Every time I verbally destroy him, he comes back with another sharp clawed retort.  It almost seems like he has nine lives.  I'm beginning to think that I need to employ a new strategy in my dealings with this character. There's more than one way to skin a cat. 

DC says that he's on the trail of a gang of cat burglars who have recently been preying on Wind Meadows residents.  I roll my eyes and go along with his charade, just to keep him talking.  I don't want to rub his fur the wrong way.  When I challenge him and note his diminutive size, he tells me he's no scaredy cat.  I have to be careful when i chide him, sometimes he turns into a sourpuss when I egg him on too much.  As for me, I feel like I'm sitting in the cat bird seat when I get him agitated and make him lose his self proclaimed "cool".  I made a bet with him, maintaining that he's really an ordinary old alley cat, and that he's just making up stories about his crime fighting prowess.  To my surprise he took the bet, and even offered to sweeten the kitty.  I told him sure, even though I don't know what that means. He displayed a self-satisfied cheshire grin, and said something about swallowing a canary.

I've heard about the famous feuds that cat and dog families have engaged in over the ages.  When DC and I get together, the fur often flies. I pride myself on my tolerance, but these felids are so finicky and fastidious. It's kind of fun to rile them and take them out of their comfort zone.  I must admit though, that DC is a Hep Cat.  He's hip to the latest cat lingo. He brags that he's the cat's meow to all of the cat women.  I find myself not entirely immune to his charms, although I will never intimate as much to him.  With his worldly background, he's probably spent his life catting around.  He's probably not fit company for a sophisticated lady like me. Still, he's a curious little fellow. He may just be another breed of cat. Time for a little catnap, I'm all stressed out.

                                              "Dogs believe they are human, Cats believe they are God"
                                                  -unknown                          
Exactly!

Dogs are genetic descendants of the gray wolf, having been domesticated through natural and artificial selection over the last 15,000 years to reach their current status as "Man's Best Friend". It's sometimes forgotten, as we dogs prance along through the halls of Westminster with our fancy haircuts, that we are just a step away from the wild wolf, that at any time we might throw off the shackles of civilization and return to our wild feral state.  With the appropriate musical accompaniment urging us on, and a surge in testosterone production from our adrenals, we might be howling at the moon tonight, hunting prey miles from home, and baring our teeth to dogs and humans that we happen to meet.  Born To Be Wild ! Looking for adventure, in whatever comes our way! A little music please.

The story of dog domestication, mirrors in many ways the tale of civilization.  Civilization has been referred to as the "taming of testosterone."  There are two main drives that testosterone supplies to the male of the species, dog or human.  One is toward procreation, the other towards aggression and competitiveness, primarily towards other males. Early hominids began to cooperate to increase their chance for survival and food supply, and as the male took his place as hunter and provider in the family structure, he had to moderate the drives that testosterone urged on him.  Wolves became inhabitors of these early camps and became valuable as watchdogs and hunting dogs. What would become a great friendship between species began and paralleled the rise of civilization.

Eventually surplus food became available due to the development of agriculture. Social cooperation eased some of the burdens on the individual and allowed him time to think great thoughts.  Mathematics, writing, art and metallurgy developed. Men began to dream of empires, and this inspired them to form massive armies and develop new weapons!  Testosterone was there with them all the way, spurring them on.  Due to genetic variation, some men were blessed (or cursed) with more than others.

Two examples of genetic variation possibly due to selective breeding. Some men were thinkers, others were men of action.  Still others became fitness and weight loss coaches.

The story of dog domestication and selective breeding continues today.  Humans have turned us into playful companions. They've edited out much of our aggressiveness, some of our curiosity, and our urge to chase every rabbit we might encounter.  What they can't manipulate through breeding they achieve through neutering.  Although testosterone is often given a bad name, let's not forget that it's also the impetus for heroic deeds, primal passion and energy, for creativity and competition.  It's all in the balance of things.  The next time you see a friendly dog, remember where he came from.  Admire his nice sweater, and his cool demeanor.  But remember, deep down inside he's ......

                                                    

                                                

                                                            

The importance of watchdogs in our daily lives is often overlooked. As we go about our routines, we often take for granted the role these sentinels play in ensuring our safety and stability.  As a spokesdog and shameless promoter of all things canine, I feel the need to take a moment to shine a brief light on the activities of the vigilant animals and humans that spend their days and nights watching the perimeter. Their nature, training and occupation earn for them the  title, Watchdog.  

There are certain requisite qualities that the erstwhile watchdog candidate must possess if he's considering a career in the home security industry.  He needs sharp eyesight, keen hearing and constant alertness. He must have the intelligence and discrimination to discern the nature of any potential interloper, the intuition to sense the intuder's purpose, the ability to restrain his more violent responses until he knows for certain that they are warranted. A loud bark is good enough in some situations, but intimidating presence is needed when the dog is required to threaten physical force to protect person or property.

Certain breeds are especially well known for possessing the skills and the moxie to make good watchdogs.  Schnauzers and Terriers, Dobermans, German Shepherds  and Rottweilers make the grade.  Many of these breeds started as farm dogs, their ancestors were bred for their territorial instincts and for their physical strength and size.  Standard Poodles such as myself are good barkers.  We may not be the largest dogs on the block, but I would warn any unwelcome trespasser, not to test the resolve of Standard Poodle security.

Humans have appropriated the name Watchdog to give credibility to their efforts at oversight and security.  Journalists , when at their best, have kept an eye on excesses of governments and corporations. They should bark out the truth loudly to alert the populace to the truth of things.  Blogs have arisen which sometimes play a role as watchdogs of the watchdogs. Consumer groups have kept a watchful eye on  products that may be harmful.  Government agencies monitor the environment and drug safety, and the military watches the perimeter of land and sea to ensure our safety.  When all of these agencies and individuals go about their tasks with integrity and good will, they exemplify the proud tradition of their namesakes, Watchdogs.  

Watchdog dogs continue to play an important role in society today.  Although there are fewer farms where we can display the full spectrum of our abilities, we play a role in protecting homes, apartments and businesses.  How would junkyards exist if we didn't have "Junkyard Dogs" to protect them?  The next time your dog alerts you to the presence of a visitor, be sure to thank him for his earnestness, for his vigilance, for his discrimination.  Oh yeah, don't forget the positive reinforcement that a milkbone or two might lend.

Buffy
Wind Meadows Watchdog

The character and beauty of a single snowflake is often lost in the shuffle, when it's short , unpredictable life is spent amidst the crowd;  one of so many of its kind, descending from the sky in the midst of a winter's snowfall.  The intricate pattern, the exquisite shape, the unbearable lightness of its being will forever go unappreciated. The solitary snowflake is often summarily shoveled and plowed into a snowhill; crushed, compacted, cruelly losing its identity as it merges with the collective in a mass of closely packed water molecules. Why did Nature design such beauty, only to see its creation treated so disrespectfully?  Often there is no one to witness the distinctiveness of Her art, the unique byproduct of wind and temperature working on the template of an ice crystal that becomes a simple snowflake. I guess Nature sometimes sends unsubtle blizzards our way as a gentle reminder, that we should show her more understated creations, such as snowflakes, more honor and devotion. Then we might see, in the implicit design of a single snowflake, all of the possibilities,the infinite potential inherent in the evolving process of creation. Here in the Midwest, we must not have been paying sufficient homage to Mother Nature in recent days, as she just dumped a "gentle reminder" on us.  Twenty four inches worth to be exact. It's often hard to discern Nature's intentions, sometimes I think that it's all unplanned,there's no order to it, it's random!  Then there are other times when it looks like there are patterns in Nature that repeat themselves, that there is order in the disorder.  Could there be order in the chaos?  Those who study snowflakes say yes!

Dogs appreciate the snow, we love to play in it , to shake it off when we come into the house; to spray the floor, the walls and our owners with an indoor snow shower.  We race in the white stuff, pull sleds and often slip and slide as our four legs go flailing out from under us. I must admit, that even sensitive, caring creatures such as dogs, don't commonly take time out to contemplate the fate of a single snowflake. We look at the aggregate, we're pack animals at heart. Studying solitary snow particles would come more naturally to the lone wolves among us.

There's beauty in the virginity of freshly fallen snow.  Descending gently in the silence of a towering forest it invokes a radiant purity, as if a message from Nature that ideals do exist, that there are certain absolute truths available for inspection if you are perceptive enough to appreciate their subtlety. A clue to the nature of these inherent laws might be revealed, perhaps, in serious study of the solitary snowflake.

Snowflakes are formed from the merger of two snow crystals, which then begin a journey from the clouds to the earth, floating in the wind for an hour or more.  They attract additional water molecules from their micro-environment. They send out exploratory tips, which become arrays of branches, and morph into complex structures.  Look at single snowflakes under a microscope and you'll find that they look similar at many different levels of magnification. Each falling fractal flake will be subject to a different microenvironment; temperature, humidity, wind, impurities.  As a result no two flakes turn out alike, even if they start off from the same place. You could never predict the end product from the initial conditions.  Nature in its wisdom, has given us a messenger in the form of a snowflake. Simple systems and algorithms often give rise to complex behavior. Small variations in starting conditions can cause dramatic differences in the end result.  The solitary snowflake has a story to tell; of survival, of balancing the many forces of stability and instability acting upon it, of the relative contributions of atomic scales and everyday scales to its evolution.

Dogs, and humans for that matter, are complex creatures.  We live in a universe that tosses us in the wind as we attempt to make our way to a gentle landing. We grow in a micro-environment, each iteration subject to unique forces that demand balancing. Along the way, we hope that some observer will appreciate the fine details of our structure, the unique history that formed us, the fine line we've attempted to walk between stability and instability, the story behind our survival and success. The solitary snowflake has much to teach us about this arc of life. If we remain very quiet and observe, we might hear its gentle lesson. 

My usual run of the house has become more restricted over the last few months.  The masters feel I'll be safer if I'm gated into an area of the kitchen that, while quite spacious and luxurious as dog abodes go, is not quite the penthouse living that I've grown accustomed to at Chez Kastenholz over the years.  My view of the pond has to be filtered through the gate and is obstructed by dining room chairs.  This new phase of my life, waiting for the owners to come home from work in my new nook in the corner of the kitchen, has a different feel than the free, wide ranging latitudes that I used to explore in the adventurous days of my youth.  I'm of two minds about being cornered like this.  It's a restriction, a loss of independence, an acknowledgement of the toll that age has taken on this old dog.  Still, I'm trying to see the positive in the predicament that nature has placed me in. I'll use this time to find a way to face this new reality, realign my perspective and learn more about the ecology of corners. I've been reading that it's wise never to corner an animal.  I might have to leave that article out on the kitchen table, as a gentle reminder that I just might become a vicious, wild animal in response to this dilemma.  One never knows, do one?

When assigned to them against one's will, corners can be dark, dingy places; dusty and dirty, dank, dreary.  Corners cut, may cause calamitous consequence.  Corners; box you in, design a dilemma, predate a predicament.  In remote corners reside caverns of the mind, dark residences of fear, guilt and panic.  Hiding places- corners. Hidden home of secrets, private thoughts, prejudices, bias.  Corners sometimes sharp, pointed, bruise and cut.  Careful crossing corners! Stand in the corner when you've been a bad dog, and need a time out.  You'll find that corners become progressively smaller, the longer you're required to inhabit them.

If I look at corners in favorable light; when chosen freely, corners can be bright, sun filled happy spaces.  Niches and nooks filled with books . Quiet corners , meditate, mental hideaways house figurative monk and monastery. Shelters in a storm, places to hide, calming getaways .  Turning corners  renews!  Reinvigorate; rediscover areas of specialty,  concentration, focus.  Corners, unexpected meetings, greeting old friends. Standing on the corner, watching all the people go by. Give them the eye?  No thanks, I'll keep mine. I'll meet you at the corner!

As a new sojourner of the world of corners, I'll explore new continents, sail to the antipodes.  I'll bring along misty water colored memories, of the way I was. Carry them in the corners of my mind. I'll face the challenge courageously, with you in my corner. There are new truths to discover, experiences to behold. They're out there waiting for me.  Just around the next corner.

Buffy
Cornered! ( With My Computer )

The cold Wisconsin winter has set in; it's snowing, frigid, it gets dark early.  It makes a dog dream of sunny climes and the lure of a surfboard on a sandy beach.  You may be surprised to learn that certain dogs have the ability to "hang paws" , but it's true.  There are various Surf Dog competitions around the country which demonstrate our seafaring talent, our love of competition and challenge.  The fact that we might get wet in the process is the only negative I can think of.  Luckily, humans set up these contests in areas where surfing is relatively safe, where the curl is somewhat controlled, and the dogs are experienced competitors, not rash amateurs.  Surfing doesn't appeal to, or come naturally to all dogs.  Some of us are loathe to dip a toe in a rain puddle, much less ride the pipeline.  Surfing the swell can be swell, for the right dog, in the right place, at the right time. 

Some animals have written that surfing is a metaphor for life.  It's a competition.  We try to find the perfect wave and failing in that quest causes "dukkha", suffering.  We watchfully wait for that perfect wave to form, to be in the right place for the break, to time the curl. Of course, even if you're in the right place at the right time, it won't matter if you never had surfing lessons. Even if you're a natural, such as I.

What if these animals are correct, and life comes down to grabbing your board each morning and heading out into the ocean in search of success, or even mere survival. No matter what the weather, even though the shore may be rocky, sustenance can only be obtained by getting up on the board and finding balance.  Animals would need to be taught early on what the game is, would have to learn how to navigate the waves at an early age. The nature of the experience would depend on the nature of the seas that they individually encounter. Some are born into calm, some into calamity.  For some the shore is rocky, for others silky soft sand.  Storms will arise, and even skill and nurtured ability may be inadequate in the face of a maelstrom.  Other surfers may get in the way, their boards sharp and dangerous.  Even gentle waves may hide riptides, seabed obstacles, sharks.  Getting through a day in the surf unscathed is a challenge.  Taking that board out every day will take its toll on those who are ill prepared, who live on rocky shores, who have the ill fortune to be buffeted by stormy seas. Those who are taught early, who live in placid conditions on gentle seas, will wonder what's so tough about this surfing thing and continue working on their tans.

Some animals, humans and dogs included, enjoy surfing.  For those who don't like the water, who never learned to balance on a board, there's still the challenge of "surfing" through samsara.  The experience will be different for each organism, the lessons learned will be unique in accordance with the animal's nature.  Some will thrive in the wake of the challenge, others will drown as they are overcome by the pounding surf.  Achieving blessed balance is the goal; in the midst of a long ride, in the tube of a perfect wave, as it breaks on a sunny shore. Is it summer yet?

It is well known that dogs are inspirational beings; their faces have launched a thousand ships, they have been the subject of odes, they've engendered musical compositions created by some of the great artists of our time.  Whatever the genre; country, rock, pop or showtune, dogs and their attributes have provided the subject matter and great artists have provided the lyrics and melodies that have set tails wagging the world over.  If you have ever walked behind a dog, and seen the sway of the hips and haunches, you'll understand where Hank Ballard and Chubby Checker got the idea for the Twist from.  Shake it a Baby, Twist and Bark.  Beatles Lennon and McCartney wrote about Bulldogs and Dear Martha.  Even Monkees and Byrds wrote and sang songs about dogs.  We unite the planet with our interspecies appeal. 

Who can forget the dog inspired classics like "Me and You and a Dog Named Boo".  You all remember Lobo's long career. In case you forgot, have a listen to this blast from the past.

Dogs were intimately involved in the career of Frank Sinatra. "Mama Will Bark!" was one of his most accomplished recordings.  I think it ranks right up there with "New York, New York" and "Night and Day" amongst his greatest interpretations.

The Beatles found it necessary to write dog songs to further their otherwise faltering careers.  We provided the spark that made them legends, at least that's how it's played up in our musical periodical, The Rolling Bone.
Pink Floyd wrote "Dogs", George Clinton, "Atomic Dogs", Henry Nillson wrote "The Puppy Song" and Cat Stevens, "I Love My Dog."  "Bingo" was her name I've heard, and there went "Mandy" and "Brandy"  and "Martha, My Dear"
A dog song lends good karma to a musician's career, as it is usually written with love and affection, though there are a few exceptions like "Hounddog".

Old Blue was a good old dog, and someone put $5 on the line betting on it.  Five dollars was a lot of money back then, so that dog must have been something.  I hope people say that about Old Buffy some day! There was "Old King" by Neil Young, "Black Dog" by Led Zeppelin, and "Diamond Dogs" by Bowie.  Dogs should have their own channel on Sirius (The Dog Star)

If you haven't got one or two already, go on out and buy yourself a dog. Treat her well, and she just might inspire you to write a hit song.  Look what we did for all of these other guys.

Old Buffy
Good Old Dog Too