Playing to Be You.

It was grey and cold for a Saturday in May. The temperature had not yet hit 50 and she was bundled up in a sweatshirt, light jacket and her winter gloves. Finnegan loved the cooler air and was trotting briskly along, nose tilted up to catch all the best sniffs. As they wandered over to his favorite stand of juniper trees, two young women jogged past, huffing and red-cheeked. One of them laughed, "I am so fat! I can feel my hips bouncing!" The other woman gasped, "I am soooo jonesing for a cheeseburger! Can we go get lunch after this torture?" "Oh, hell yes! I think we are due a reward for all this agony!" Came the breathless reply.

They jogged out of hearing. 

Finnegan, finished up his business, kicked the grass behind him and muttered, "Why do you humans always do that?"
"Do what? Jog?"

"No. Tell yourselves, 'I'm fat' or 'I'm stupid' or....well, all of those negative messages."

"Well. I suppose because we think it's true."

Finn tugged hard on the leash, pulling her off the curb and back onto the road.

"Is it? Do you think you're a fat person?"

She took a deep breath. It suddenly struck her that she was about to say yes. She would gain a few pounds and feel horribly uncomfortable. Then lose them. But in hindsight, four pounds here and there were nothing compared to the extra pounds those women were struggling to lose. And yet, she didn't look at them and think they were 'fat'. They were just women. So why would she consider herself fat?

"Your rules are so strange," Finnegan woofed at her. "Human women always talk about how 'fat' they are, even when they look like they could actually use a good sandwich."

"You're right. It's ingrained in our society. We learn to buy into the message."
"Regardless of whether you really are fat?"

"Yeah. I guess so."

"Do you think you're stupid?"

"No. Other people do."

They both chuckled. But then he got quiet again, sniffing some long, tumbled grass and a dead blackberry bush.

"Dogs don't think like that."

"Ok. So how do dogs think?"

"We don't. We live. We eat. We sleep. We play. We have sex. And we never, ever, ever care about the size of our hips. Or yours. Because we're just happy to be alive. I mean, we looooove to eat, but we love all those other activities just as much. Dogs don't waste time doing icky stuff. If those women enjoyed jogging, they wouldn't be thinking about their hips or cheeseburgers. They would simply be feeling good."

"Are you a philosopher today?" She teased.

"No. I think they could have made a happier choice than..."

"Jogging?"

"Yes. I bet if they were line dancing they would be playing like puppies! It's Dog-Think. Do what makes you feel happy and you'll keep coming back for more. Play whenever you can."
"It's not that simple, Finnegan."

He stared up at her in a way that made her feel foolish. Uh oh. Here came the corgi smack-down.

"Everything is simple, Human Woman. Every choice you make is simple when you choose what makes you happy. Being You starts between your ears. C'mon, lets run after those women! I feel like making them smile!"

He darted forward, pulling her feet into motion, and pretty soon they were running zig zags downhill, his tongue lolling, his little legs eating up the earth. They were moving so fast she felt like she was flying along behind him, so she stuck her arms out and pretended to be an airplane, "Zoooooom!" She laughed out loud. He barked. The day suddenly got much, much brighter.

Weird But True.

They were enjoying their nightly jaunt. As they passed a row of porches, a door opened and a woman popped out. She reached her hands down to Finnegan and he wiggled happily over to her, submitting eagerly to her scratches and kisses and baby talk.
And then she stopped and the two of them locked gazes and she murmured, "Uh huh, hmmm, oh,". Then she gave his long back a final calming stroke, straightened and looked at Finn's Human.
"He has so very much to teach you about the world. But you don't know it yet. You will, though. You will."
"I try to listen."
"Try harder."
Finnegan looked up, grinning.
"Yes, Human Woman. Try harder," he teased.
"And he would like some more of those peanut butter cookies you make," the other woman continued. "What shape do you make them in?"
"Uh...round. I use a drinking glass. I don't have a cookie cutter."
The woman looked back down at Finnegan and once again, something unusual passed between them.
"Round is good," she announced. "Nice to see you again."
And she stepped back inside of her apartment. Gone. Just like that. 
Finnegan pulled on his leash.
"Home, Human Woman. Home to my round cookies!"
Weird, she thought, following behind, that was weird. And entirely true.