In my self-appointed role as the steward of my dogs, rather than simple a human who loves with them, I often step back and look at their lives. Can they live the lives of dogs? Are they safe and secure? Can I give them what they need, not just what I need?

I don’t really believe creatures who depend so completely on us can be labeled “partners,” they are companions, we share our world with them and are responsible for them.

Bud, I came to see, grew up in a tiny world – his little pen, where his own companions starved to death or died of exposure. He is lucky to be alive, and I am lucky he is alive.

Every day, I see Bud’s work expanding – he sees donkeys and sheep, guards Red, learns he to be happy, to play and have fun, comes to understand the new rules under which he lives – eliminating outside, marking trees, not furniture, chewing his things, not our things, sticking to his own food bowl, learning trust and routine, coming, sitting, staying.

Lately, I have been encouraging him, guiding  him to explore the boundaries of his world.  walk him to the top of the hill and guide him to the back pasture. This takes trust, I have to teach him not to go too far, yet I want him to do his own exploring, without me, Red, treats or Maria.

He is loving this now. Rather than eat donkey poop, he would rather go down the hill, walk the pond, bark at the ducks, stare out into the wood. He lever goes out of sight, but he loves to explore the outer pasture, with its smells and rich history.

It takes  two or three shouts (I might get a whistle), but he always comes tearing up the hill, and there is always a reward for him – a treat, a hug, praise. It is very gratifying for me to see Bud expanding his universe, learning what the world is like.

This is the spiritual part of loving dogs for me, stepping outside of myself and giving them the lives they deserve.