The dobe got a strange lump on her leg before Christmas. The vet initially thought that it was an insect bite that she'd licked too much but I'm glad that we weren't so sure as on Friday she had, what we now knew to be, a benign tumour removed. She was a sad girl who returned home, her history with vets has not been good and the entire experience drains her. I don't think I'm exaggerating to think that she knows that what happens is for the good, but she does not enjoy the process. When it came to bedtime the pain was evident. She sat on her bed, the whites of her eyes showing and her mouth as stiff as if she had her teeth clenched. So there we sat, on the cold bedroom floor, long after bedtime and I held her till she was ready to fall asleep because I knew, there and then, with utter certainty that this is my girl. We may not be related, the same species even, but she is my girl and I adore her with the same depth of feeling that I save for my very favourite people and the other furry and feathered souls that have snuck into my heart.
There was a Church camp in Hong Kong, we went there a few times for the weekend and maybe once with school. It was in the mountains, we did lots of walking, and on the paths around the site there were signs that often made us laugh; my favourite "Don't step on the cat, she may be your Grandmother!" It made no sense, and I never saw the cat, but as I learnt officially about Buddhism at University, I saw how I had, through experiences like that, been living with Buddhism my entire childhood in Asia. It had formed a great deal of how I thought about the world and, most especially, the notion of souls. I find it perfectly acceptable, from both a faith based and scientific standpoint, that there is an essence, an energy in every living thing, that can not quite be explained by science, and which we think of as the soul. I think it is one of the true wonders of Buddhism, the idea of reincarnation, not necessarily for what it teaches you about the progression of your faith, but for the beautiful way in which it ensures that the basic tenants of that faith, and rights that it bestows upon each soul, are shared inclusively with the other creatures on our planet. For each of us to be able to recognise and relate to this energy, both in humans and non-humans, I see as utterly natural. We've all met someone with whom we instantly shared a rapport... or wanted to escape from fast. Fallen for that one puppy in the pile of equally cute puppies or found the one dog at the rescue shelter that catches our eye. I'm not suggesting that they might be long lost Uncle Frankland, but they have an energy we like and, you never know, might just share some of what was once Uncle Frank's!
And so it is with the Megs and I. She is a real needy fusspot who whines way too much, thinks she can wrap me round her little finger and sulks monumentally when she doesn't get her own way, can pull me off my feet, if she thinks there's a fox to be caught, farts like you wouldn't believe and utterly hogs the sofa but look into those eyes and there's that connection. The one that says we recognise each other, and we love what we see.
There was a Church camp in Hong Kong, we went there a few times for the weekend and maybe once with school. It was in the mountains, we did lots of walking, and on the paths around the site there were signs that often made us laugh; my favourite "Don't step on the cat, she may be your Grandmother!" It made no sense, and I never saw the cat, but as I learnt officially about Buddhism at University, I saw how I had, through experiences like that, been living with Buddhism my entire childhood in Asia. It had formed a great deal of how I thought about the world and, most especially, the notion of souls. I find it perfectly acceptable, from both a faith based and scientific standpoint, that there is an essence, an energy in every living thing, that can not quite be explained by science, and which we think of as the soul. I think it is one of the true wonders of Buddhism, the idea of reincarnation, not necessarily for what it teaches you about the progression of your faith, but for the beautiful way in which it ensures that the basic tenants of that faith, and rights that it bestows upon each soul, are shared inclusively with the other creatures on our planet. For each of us to be able to recognise and relate to this energy, both in humans and non-humans, I see as utterly natural. We've all met someone with whom we instantly shared a rapport... or wanted to escape from fast. Fallen for that one puppy in the pile of equally cute puppies or found the one dog at the rescue shelter that catches our eye. I'm not suggesting that they might be long lost Uncle Frankland, but they have an energy we like and, you never know, might just share some of what was once Uncle Frank's!
And so it is with the Megs and I. She is a real needy fusspot who whines way too much, thinks she can wrap me round her little finger and sulks monumentally when she doesn't get her own way, can pull me off my feet, if she thinks there's a fox to be caught, farts like you wouldn't believe and utterly hogs the sofa but look into those eyes and there's that connection. The one that says we recognise each other, and we love what we see.
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