The Dog Who Loves You

The dog who loves you turns up in your dreams. Last night she was a woman on a train who said her name was “Evensong” (I kid you not) and she was old and dignified. The dog who loves you is part of your soul (I kid you not) and she insists that mirth never dies. That is, as they say, how things stand. Carl Jung had it wrong: the anima or animus is the dog who loves you; the one who first loved you; who loves you now. Sorry Yeats, here’s how the poem should go: 

 

“Young man lift up your russet brow,

And lift your tender eyelids maid,

And brood on dogs and dogs who love…”

 

I only like Odysseus because of his dog. 

I’m suspicious of men who walk their dogs while wearing business suits–Nixon.

I feel great empathy for people who know nothing about dogs but want one anyway, as they haven’t given up on the soul.

 

Jesus didn’t have a dog which is a red flag. 

Mohammed had hundreds of doggie hang ups.

Buddha had an open heart but only insofar as the dog stood for reincarnation. Silliness. Dogs know we don’t come back. That’s why they live for the moment.

Dogs in Judaism–well, the Old Testament isn’t pretty.

Dogs in Hinduism–keep them away from altars and weddings…

 

Dogs are the perfect antidote to religion–they have empathy. 

 

Here’s to the avenue of dogs, the one inside and the one before you.