It's a Dog's Life, My Friends
Wise words in weird times from a wacky canine
Hello. I’m Mr. Bones. I’m a dog. My human is taking a day off again. Bad stuff has been happening lately, and he feels sad. He asked me to write the blog post this week.
A dog writing a blog post: what’s next?
Some of you are very literal and may object: a dog can’t write! If this bothers you, stop reading. I can’t help you. If, however, you accept the wisdom I offer, please continue.
***
About my human.
He tells people I’m his dog. Actually, he’s my human. They like to think they are in charge. They try to act superior to dogs, but when bad shit happens, who do they turn to? Us.
Dogs, consoling humans since the dawn of human history.
Maybe I can console you a bit. For starters, you guys think too much. Try smelling nature and listening to its quiet sounds more.
***
A little background might help you understand the story of me and my human. He’s kind of weird-looking, with a small, short small nose that has no wet black tip on it.
I think he would look a lot better this way:
My life as a puppy was not happy. My first family left me alone in their backyard for the first three years. They never came outside to pet me or talk to me. They tried to make me into a mean dog that would bite intruders, but I didn’t have mean in me.
So, they took me to the shelter, said I was no good as a guard dog and left me there. It was awful for me to be abandoned after promising to give them my loyalty forever.
It broke my little puppy heart. I stayed at the shelter waiting for a forever home.
A new human came to visit. He looked nice, so I barked, “Can I be your dog?” He saw me wagging my tail and waved. Oh boy! Then we met. I was so happy, I licked him.
He smiled. “Please come with me in my van!” he said. “We’ll be friends.” Finally, I had a forever human. That was three years ago. We spend almost all our time together.
He is a good human. Actually, humans don’t rescue us. We rescue them. But that’s a dog secret. Many humans need a dog, too. Some humans know it; others don’t.
My human knew. He was easy to train.
***
You humans always want to know what dogs are thinking, don’t you?
Today, I was going to share my secrets about important topics, such as smells, noises, poop, pee, food, barking, and sniffing other dogs. But given the current human mess, let’s save that for another day. Now, I want to warn you about the trouble brewing.
I don’t know all the details, but one thing is clear: the ancient evil has returned. Darkness is upon the land. Humans now attack in packs, with the ancient bloodlust, to maim, to kill.
That may be why you are all feeling afraid and angry. Maybe sharing some dog wisdom is in order. Focus on the immediate—the here and now. I don’t wake up worrying about what happened yesterday or what’s going to happen today.
Just wake up and smell the day. Or in your case, the coffee.
Like me. I wake at sunrise and stare at my human. I lie there waiting for him to wake and feed me. While I wait, he lies there and snores for what seems like hours.
Start your day feeling hungry. Stick to the basics. It keeps you grounded.
***
So, in the morning, I’m awake and hungry, but often he’s still asleep.
Maybe he’s only been snoring for a few minutes, but my stomach is growling! Wake up already! Where is my Kibble? Finally, I deploy the foolproof wake-up procedure.
I get really close to his face and breathe my all-night dog breath. Then, I stick out my long, wet tongue and lick his mouth and nose. My tongue tickles his lips and goes into his nostrils. His eyes pop open, and he wakes up FAST!
“Ptui,” he says. “Yuck! Gross!”
He feeds me. Finally!
***
Then, we go for a walk, so I can poop. It’s nice when someone takes you on a poop walk. Knock on your friend’s door and ask them if they want to go on a poop walk.
They will thank you for it.
I sniff as we walk, looking for a good spot to poop, maybe with some nice soft grass, or dry leaves that make a nice noise when I step on them. Then, I initiate the pooping sequence, circling around three or four times. I know, this looks funny to humans.
Some of you don’t like to talk about poop because it’s stinky. Some things offend, but we still have to deal with them. Try to face the unpleasant, difficult though it may be.
A dog has to be careful about where to poop. We still operate based on instincts. Such as, don’t attack each other for no reason. Human attack instincts have gone haywire.
***
The rest of the daily routine is boring. Humans sit still way too much. Boring!
My human likes to go to a coffee shop and drink dark brown hot liquid that makes his eyes get big. For us dogs, the sight of a cat or a squirrel is enough to get us going.
After drinking the brown liquid, he sits down, plugs in a thin square box, and stares at the bright screen. He forgets all about me. Hello, I’m your dog. Remember?
When I get bored of lying there, I stand on my hind legs, put my front paws in his lap, and look up into his eyes. I bark, meaning, “Hey, will you please pay attention to me?”
Not that he gets it.
After all this time, he still does not understand my bark-talk. He just stares at me and says, “Sorry, not now, Mr. Bones, I’m working.” Then I feel sad inside.
Do you feel sad? Let someone know. Put your paws in their lap. Stare into their eyes.
***
To keep busy, I stare at women and give them my sad puppy eyes and wag my tail.
They say, “Oh, you are so cute!” They ask my human, ”Can I pet him?” He looks up at them, then he looks down at me. The look says, “How do you do that?”
Without me, the women wouldn’t approach us.
Dogs. The best wingman for shy guys for thousands of years and still counting. He smiles and tells women, “Yes.” He wants to say more, but he doesn’t. He’s shy.
Thewomen extend their sweet-smelling hands for me to sniff. Pay close attention to your sense of smell. Breathe in deeply through your nose.
Sniffing tells you things.
After sniffing, I lick their hands. They say, “Gosh, you are so friendly. What a little lover!”
My human says thank you before they leave. He sighs. He wants attention, too, but the women are young, and he is old. They don’t see him.
Look at an old person today. See them. Say hello. They need attention, too.
***
Do you know what day and night are for? A lot of humans don’t.
Day is for hunting and night is for sleeping. Humans think they don’t hunt, but you do. You hunt for work, for money, love, and companionship. See?
We are all still hunters at heart.
Catching your prey is difficult. Women only talk to my human if I attract them. What else helps humans get in touch with their primal instincts? Here are a couple ideas.
Make a fire at night; stare at it. It reminds you of old ways and secrets that dogs know.
Most important at night is having the warmth of another close to you. Humans buy fancy beds and blankets and pillows, but sleep alone and feel cold deep inside.
Have you ever felt cold and lonely inside at night? This need is difficult to fill.
***
When it gets dark, my human gets in the van and lies down in his bed, near mine. He says, “Goodnight, Mr. Bones. Please stay in your bed, okay?” I smile. “OK.” But I am thinking, “What, stay here alone and cold with nobody to smell?”
I stay there until he falls asleep, then I crawl into his bed. I learned that humans have a rule against crawling into someone’s bed while they are asleep. But I do it anyway.
What a strange race you are.
***
How can he expect me to stay alone in my bed when he is lying right next to me?
His body is nice and warm. Up close, I smell his human odor. His armpit is stinky at night. I like to bury my nose in there. It makes me sleepy, and soon I begin to snore.
A dog likes to smell its human all night long.
***
He is slowly learning about dogs. I keep barking at him that dogs are pack animals. We need a pack, but he won’t let me join one. I really need to sleep close to him.
At night, he whispers the old secret I taught him. “It’s nice for a man and a dog to sleep close together and enjoy each other’s warmth, isn’t it?” I bark. “Yes!”
Between you and me, sleeping close to my human is my perfect life.
***
Humans often require training in the proper way to sleep with a dog. Be still, dammit!
If he refuses to be still, I put my head on his chest and my nose close to his face, meaning. “Don’t move!” He opens his eyes and sees my big wet nose in front of him. He laughs and says, “You are sooo goofy. Now let me sleep!” Then we settle down.
***
Life is scary now. You feel the way I feel when the big, scary mailman comes to the front door. The beast has returned. We live with deep fear as in the bad old days.
Sometimes during the night, I hear a sound: the wind blows, a leaf falls on the van, a dog barks in the distance. Someone is moving. Maybe there is a cat outside.
No matter how sleepy I am, I wake up instantly to sound the alarm. I bark loudly in his ear, “WAKE UP!” His head pops up, and he looks around. “What the hell?”
He pulls the curtain back and looks out the window. “There is nobody out there!” He shouts, “Why did you bark in my ear? It’s so loud!” He still doesn’t get it.
I bark again, “Danger, somebody may try to kill you!” “No one is going to kill me,” he says. “Now, go back to sleep!” He does not hear the soft, deadly noises in the night.
Danger is real; it always has been. Now, once again, it creeps around in the dark.
***
Thus protected by a vigilant dog, namely me, we sleep soundly the rest of the night.
I wake up first in the morning and wait for him. If he is not in a hurry, he opens the curtain, and I put my head on his chest. I lay there looking out the window of the van at the trees and sky. I see leaves blow in the breeze, and hear his heartbeat.
He smiles and pets me as I stare.
I want him to recite to me the ancient poem of man to dog. “In your eyes, I see the light of the ancient fire. In your every fiber, I sense the courage of your wolf father.”
I want him to say, “I am in your heart, and you are in mine. Forever.”
Instead, he just looks at his watch and says, “Oh, crap. Another day.”
My human is not a poet, but he is good to me. Take what you can get. He turns to me when the world worries him. Find a human or dog to cling to when you are worried.
The end. By Mr. Bones.
NOTES
My dog, Mr. Bones, and I have been on the road full-time for three and a half years, since I found him at a shelter in Denver in June 2022. We are coming up on our fourth van-niversary in June of 2026. Mr. Bones has adapted well to van life and enjoys the time we spend in coffee shops, where he makes friends with all of the women there.
While on the road, I realized that I had become a nomad. You might say that I have reverted to nomadism, which I now believe is the natural state of existence for most humans. Sedentary living has its advantages, but it also makes a lot of us crazy. We become anxious and depressed because we spend too much time indoors staring at screens, and most of us seldom go anywhere. My advice is to hit the road, asap.
For those who may be interested in efforts to promote peace in these turbulent times, I just learned about the Buddhist monks’ 120-day peace walk, 2,300 miles, from Fort Worth, TX, to Washington, D.C. You can also follow their progress on Facebook.
https://www.facebook.com/share/1LCp6Dt6yt/?mibextid=wwXIfr
For those who want to know more about Aloka, the Peace Dog, try this link.
https://www.facebook.com/share/1LCp6Dt6yt/?mibextid=wwXIfr
And for those who like country music songs about dogs, try this one.
A knowledgeable companion!
Mr. Bones is a wise and loyal companion.