What My Goofy Dog Taught Me about People

Earlier tonight, my dog Hadley - that's her in the middle - was barking at the back door. It was cold and dark, and apparently she had been left behind when our other two dogs came inside.

Hadley is an Australian Shepherd/Doberman mix; my son calls her an Aussieman. My expectation was that she would be extremely smart, but the reality is that she is extremely goofy, but also highly lovable.

When she raced inside, Hadley immediately pressed herself against my leg, then sat down. She leaned her head against my knee, and her eyes rolled up as she looked to see if I would sit with her. I did.

Her head in my hand, I found myself talking out loud to Hadley. You may think I'm crazy, but here's a close approximation of what I said.

If you don't understand the value of the pack, you will find yourself lonely and cold and confused.

You are barking at the back door because you didn't come in when the pack came in. You do this all the time. You get caught up in the excitement of the moment - chasing a bird, or sniffing where the deer wandered through our yard - and you forget what the pack is doing.

The pack isn't you or me, or Dex or Dakota. It's the connection between us. It's the respect we give each other. You can't buy or sell it. You can't weigh it."

Hadley was so happy to be inside with me that she was remaining motionless, her head still in my hand, and her eyes still looking up at me. Maybe that's why I kept talking. Or maybe I'm just a lunatic who talks to his dogs in lengthy paragraphs.

"The pack is a bond between us. You have to respect it. You have to treasure it. Or you have to get used to being alone."

At this point, a sobering thought occurred to me. I'm a lot like Hadley. I respect the dog pack, but I don't always offer the same respect for human connections.

I get caught up in my own ideas, running around like a crazy mutt chasing a small rodent. I often don't hear the calm, rational voices calling on me to be practical, or to settle for a more modest goal.

Don't get me wrong: there are times when you have to follow your own instincts. But the most magical moments in life occur when living creatures form a powerful connection. Such connections are fragile; if you don't treasure them, they disappear.

The bonds between us are what make life special. You can't buy or sell them. You can't strengthen them by giving someone a raise. You can't order your children to be closer to each other, and you can't repair a troubled relationship by exercising your power.

I'm pretty certain that by the time you are reading this, Hadley will have forgotten our discussion and will be running in circles outside. But when we let her out the back door, she always turns to see if the other two dogs are coming. She loves being part of the pack; she just has to better understand her side of the bargain.

I do, too.

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