A well-known Buddhist koan goes like this: Does a dog have a Buddha-nature? As with most koans, the answer isnt nearly as important as the process of meditation and reflection to determine an answer. But when I look at my dog, Chavez, that answer is obvious.
Like many domesticated canines, Chavez has been spoiled by his owner. I never intended to get him hooked on human food, really. But hes unquestionably developed a refined taste for the stuff even though I offer only on occasion. It's rare that I can walk into my kitchen without my four-footed friend in tow, forever begging for the smallest of morsels. Just a crumb, a spot, a smidgen, please please! Every time I eat a meal or even retrieve a snack I have to endure his pitiful stares of hope and desperation. His eyes bore through my plate and into my food, inducing gastric daydreams that make him slobber uncontrollably (and disgustingly) onto the floor.
Given that he has at least 25 times more olfactory receptors in his nose than I do, I cant blame the guy for following his urges. It only stands to reason that if he can smell that much better than me, then he can probably taste that much better than me. Still, I have to maintain some basic level of decency and respect. So, much to his eternal dismay, hes usually ordered out of the room.
But something shifted.
I opened the refrigerator door to fix a sandwich, prompting Chavezs Pavlovian response of lumbering into the kitchen to investigate. I glanced down briefly at the black beast and muttered sarcastically, Sure buddy, today is going to be your lucky day.
I began spreading out the sandwich ingredients. Chavez, I mused aloud, You think every day is going to be your lucky day. He sat next to me and stared, utterly convinced he was but moments away from hitting pay dirt. You think every day that Im going to give you the most delicious treat youve ever tasted, I said.
The truth of my statement suddenly stopped me dead. Chavez really thinks that today is his lucky day. He really does think that Im about to hand him the most delicious treat hes ever tasted.
It was then that I realized that while Id always dismissed his behavior as pitiful, annoying, irritating, and perhaps even rude, in reality, he was eternally optimistic and forever hopeful. Every time I reach for some food Chavez thinks its his lucky day. Neither thunder from the heavens nor a calamity of Biblical proportions could ever convince him otherwise. He always holds out hope that things will go his way.
With that epiphany, I tossed him a slice of the most delicious smoked turkey.
Like many domesticated canines, Chavez has been spoiled by his owner. I never intended to get him hooked on human food, really. But hes unquestionably developed a refined taste for the stuff even though I offer only on occasion. It's rare that I can walk into my kitchen without my four-footed friend in tow, forever begging for the smallest of morsels. Just a crumb, a spot, a smidgen, please please! Every time I eat a meal or even retrieve a snack I have to endure his pitiful stares of hope and desperation. His eyes bore through my plate and into my food, inducing gastric daydreams that make him slobber uncontrollably (and disgustingly) onto the floor.
Given that he has at least 25 times more olfactory receptors in his nose than I do, I cant blame the guy for following his urges. It only stands to reason that if he can smell that much better than me, then he can probably taste that much better than me. Still, I have to maintain some basic level of decency and respect. So, much to his eternal dismay, hes usually ordered out of the room.
But something shifted.
I opened the refrigerator door to fix a sandwich, prompting Chavezs Pavlovian response of lumbering into the kitchen to investigate. I glanced down briefly at the black beast and muttered sarcastically, Sure buddy, today is going to be your lucky day.
I began spreading out the sandwich ingredients. Chavez, I mused aloud, You think every day is going to be your lucky day. He sat next to me and stared, utterly convinced he was but moments away from hitting pay dirt. You think every day that Im going to give you the most delicious treat youve ever tasted, I said.
The truth of my statement suddenly stopped me dead. Chavez really thinks that today is his lucky day. He really does think that Im about to hand him the most delicious treat hes ever tasted.
It was then that I realized that while Id always dismissed his behavior as pitiful, annoying, irritating, and perhaps even rude, in reality, he was eternally optimistic and forever hopeful. Every time I reach for some food Chavez thinks its his lucky day. Neither thunder from the heavens nor a calamity of Biblical proportions could ever convince him otherwise. He always holds out hope that things will go his way.
With that epiphany, I tossed him a slice of the most delicious smoked turkey.
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I am on myspace-- cklarock, but I might as well not be, because the interface is so poor that I rarely visit. MySpace just annoys me, and the signal-to-noise ratio if you start following click-throughs just kills me.
Keep my email addy, and I've been considering dual-blogging here and somewhere else. I'm even considering building a blog for my own site, but will probably go with Moving Type or something like that.
Sort of;
It could sound like something a bit grandiloquent to say.
At least, I now have a name for this very special look in somebody's eyes.