Week 5: Begin the Day with Some Movement
If you’ve ever had more than one dog in your life, you know their personalities are just as distinct (and as quirky) as human personalities.
Some pooches are quiet and introverted, barely communicating their existence as they glide silently through the house, never barking or annoying you. Our sweet Chaser comes immediately to mind.
Others are tricksters and comedians, hiding behind the La-Z-Boy and peeking out until you chase after them in a game of canine hide-and-seek or pretending to release a Kong until the very second you lean over to pick it up, at which point they snatch it back up and race across the room. Ah, Elsie, how I miss you!
And others still are entirely extroverted and unable to suppress their emotions. They bounce like a bunny on their hind legs anticipating a piece of the cheese and howl like a dingo in breeding season when you don’t feed them fast enough; they squeal like rusty break rotors when you attempt to leave the house without them or sound the bark alarm at every car, person in a hoodie, squirrel, dog, or floating leaf that happens to pass within sight of the window on your front door.
Can you guess which is our Zoey girl? (Hint: she’s not overly introverted).
The first time I witnessed Zoey writhing on the floor, grunting and huffing as she wriggled on her back in what appeared to be agony (or electrocution–I wasn’t sure which) and attempted to rub her entire spine against the carpet like a massive back scratcher–well, I was in a bit of shock.
To begin with, it was way too early in the morning. The sleep was only just making its way out of my eyes. Just a few seconds after the alarm went off, my mind wasn’t quite functioning and my body had barely stirred. My vision hadn’t even adjusted to the light yet when I saw the undulating black form on the carpet. But even before that, I heard her. And that particular doggie display was like nothing I’d seen before, even though I’ve lived with five other dogs before her.
What I saw was our girl wriggling and writhing so forcefully that she left an imprint on the rug. She sounded like a 92 year-old arthritic grandpa making his way up the stairs without any bannister. Or maybe like a young Arnold Schwarzenegger prepping for his next Mr. Olympia bodybuilding trophy. She sounded like me when I’d done too much grocery shopping and attempted to lug too many bags into the house at once, heaving and puffing with the effort of it all.
And yet, what she was doing required no exertion at all. She was simply getting her body in gear, revving up the ole engine, priming the pump and activating the blood circulating, in preparation for her day.
Over the years, we’ve become entirely accustomed to Zoey’s morning ritual. As soon as either of us begins to stir and she knows we’re awake (because she’s considerate that way–she never wakes us up if we’re still sleeping), she launches into her routine.
First, there’s the downward-dog stretch: bum in air, front paws extended forward on the carpet as far as they’ll go, nails deep into the pile, chin lifted as high as possible to flex her neck and shoulders, toes splayed out and apart, pulling every muscle in her body into awareness.
Then, before you can say, “liver treat!” she’s already flipped onto her back, thrashing this way and that like an alligator’s angry tail. It’s truly astonishing to watch as she slithers across the floor, paws flailing and tail sweeping the carpet, with nothing but grunts and snuffles and snorts emanating from her chest and mouth.
Just a small fraction of the daily writhing.
And then, as quickly as it began, the spectacle is over. She rests, silently supine, front paws folded neatly against her chest, jaw slack with her massive canines peeking out. This is my invitation to get up, walk over and rub her belly.
For the longest time, her bizarre morning ritual was simply confounding to me. I mean, who does that? What is the point? Was she simply trying to wake us up so someone would feed her? Was she trying to attract attention for the finale–the belly rub? Was she an exhibitionist who would stop at nothing to remain the center of attention?
While the answer to that last question is decidedly, “yes,” I’ve come to believe that’s not what’s going on in the mornings (she has many other opportunities to shine the spotlight on herself throughout the day). What I do think is happening, however, is an instinctive response to the demands of her body.
In other words, it’s a way to get her circulation going, to wipe out the lethargy of sleep, stretch her muscles and get up and at ‘em in the early hours of the day.
She’s just pretending she doesn’t understand.
Once the writhing performance is done, you see, she pops upright and is raring to go. At that point, she proceeds to the next phase of the morning: bugging Mum and Dad to get out of bed and feed her. Now that the appropriate stretching (and accompanying vocals) are done, she’s ready to start her day, dive into exercise and food and play.
Sounds like a pretty good beginning to me.
I’ve decided to emulate our Girl and kick off my own day with more physical movement (specifically, stretching). While your first thought in this area might lead to yoga practice, I’m sorry to say (to paraphrase David Mamet), that’s not my bag of tea. In fact, my single foray into yoga ended with bursitis of the knee and a very negative impression of the supposedly zen-inducing exercise.
Instead, I’ve landed upon Qi Gong, which I adore. To begin with, it was created with old people in mind. Score!
In fact, qi gong is a form of exercise that’s ideal to help elderly bodies maintain that youthful feeling: it includes stretching, muscle strengthening, balance, and, of course, a spiritual element in which you can commune with your higher self.
Additionally, there are no floor exercises to speak of. Most of Qi Gong is done while standing. Huzzah! I found my exercise tribe, finally.
So this week, let’s begin our days with a stretch (and possibly a few grunts and snuffles), shall we?
Pick something that allows your body to stretch, move, get the blood going, or anything else that prepares you to better face the day. Then come back and let me know how it went.
Last week’s challenge: Take care of those you love. How did it go?
C’mon, this one should have been easy–a no-brainer. Doing nice things for the people we care about? How hard could that be?
Well, here’s a secret I discovered about me (and, apparently, everyone else, too): it’s much easier to watch out for (and, by extension, do nice things for) my dogs than it is to do so for people. Go figure.
A recent study in the journal Society and Animals found that most humans have more empathy toward a dog that’s been mistreated than toward an adult human (though babies tied with the canines). Why would that be?
I’ve long asserted that my amour for dogs is similar to love of children. This idea has been confirmed in various studies, proving that sharing affection with your dog (whether patting while staring lovingly into their eyes, or hugging them, and so on) helps to release oxytocin in both human and canine. Oxytocin, of course, is the “feel good” chemical that creates and reinforces the bond between mothers and babies).
So if we love our dogs almost the same way we love our babies, no wonder we want what’s best for them.
Adding to that affection, there’s the commonly-accepted notion that dogs are simply, well, nicer than most humans. Have you noticed? As long as you treat them relatively well, feed them and shelter them, dogs will pledge their lifelong allegiance. As a rule (unless they’re mistreated, of course), dogs are pretty good-tempered. They’re always happy to see you, they’re basically in a good mood no matter what, they never lie to you and they never hold a grudge.
How could you NOT want to do what’s best for such a creature?
People, on the other hand, well. . . they set dates to meet for dinner, then cancel at the last minute. They yell at you when they don’t like how you fold the laundry. They act all high-and-mighty when you ask for a favor. They keep reminding you of that time on vacation in 1987 when you flirted with that bartender at the resort whenever you arrive late from work two days in a row. And those are just minor transgressions.
How on earth do we even deal with humans?!
So doing nice things for no reason at all–well, in my case, anyway, it had to be very much a conscious effort. Happy to say I did make that effort, and I even lived to tell the tale. If for no other reason, I’m here for your edification. And here’s what I’ve learned: it works!
First, a confession: my actions weren’t exactly in line with the challenge, since I didn’t encounter anyone truly in need of some help at that moment (such as a stranger stranded with a flat tire, an octogenarian who fell on the street in the middle of a crosswalk, a shopper short ten dollars at the grocery checkout, et cetera).
So I modified the challenge a wee bit, keeping my eyes peeled for any opportunity to behave kindly in general rather than specifically toward someone in need. Accordingly, this past week, I monitored the hubs incessantly, like a kid scrolling Tik Tok.
When he’d been working nonstop at his desk for three hours, I quietly refilled his tea cup. When he fell into a nap after dinner, I offered to push Chaser up the stairs for the evening. When he was faced with a massive pile of dishes after Thanksgiving dinner (which occurred recently here in Canada), I swooped in and started washing even though it was “his week” for kitchen duty.
And what happened? Did he suddenly reciprocate and bring me flowers for no reason? Did he offer to pick up my dry cleaning (okay, I don’t ever have dry cleaning, but you get the idea)? Did he help ME with the dishes when it was my week to clean up the kitchen?
No, no and no. But here’s what did happen.
He smiled a bit more. He engaged more when we spoke. He rubbed my back on the way past in the kitchen. He kissed me goodbye when he left to take the dog to doggie daycare. All in all, we had an incredibly pleasant week, one without criticism or conflict. In other words, a win.
I know from past experience that kindness can beget kindness. One study suggests that up to 40% of individuals who are the subject of a “pay-it-forward” act of kindness will go ahead and do something kind for someone else as well. So even if the hubby didn’t shower me with gifts or take on my chores, at least I know he possibly did something kind for someone else out in the world.
How did your week go? I heard yesterday from one friend who reported that she’s got her husband’s back since he was felled temporarily with Covid. Sweet!
What actions did you take that you felt good about, or that made someone else feel good?
Alternately, how do you feel about dogs vs. humans?