I met two poets from Ireland while exploring the Cornell University art museum Asian wing. They decided to accompany me. But Guiding Eyes Corky suddenly sat before a statue of the Buddha of compassion and refused to move. “I wonder if she’s a Dharma dog, or an anti-Dharma dog,” said Tom, who had a Dubliner’s perfectly ironic accent. And then Corky barked. Just once. “Dharma,” said Fergus. “Obviously pro-Dharma.” And we all agreed. Corky didn’t want to leave the statue. She sat before it, her head cocked to one side.
Walking home in late March snow I recalled that in classical Buddhism dogs were not believed to have Buddha nature. In the old scholasticism dogs were thought to be insufficiently awake to gain enlightenment. But the masters hadn’t met Corky. I saw her comprehend a statue of the Buddha–the one of rebirth–she let out one firm bark. One only. I told myself I wouldn’t be sentimental. But I saw how the moment spoke through a dog and a Bodhisatva. It was enough for me to experience the chills.
Planet of the Blind 