It’s been official for a while, dog owners live longer, healthier lives than people without dogs. According to a new study of more than 3.4 million, owning a dog is linked to a longer life. Dog owners have a lower risk of heart disease, walk more often, are less lonely, can be less anxious.

I don’t think this is really surprising to us dog lovers, but there is growing data to support the idea that having a dog can be healthy ( as we know, it can sometimes be unhealthy.

Like the movie said, you want to love your dog, not love your dog.)

I sensed early on that dogs were healing for me. They calmed me, kept me company while I wrote (and write) alone. Dogs make me smile, they help me interact with other people when I go outside, they supply important material for my writing.

I laugh a dozen times a day when I look at Bud or Zinnia. I make sure to walk several times a day, partly because I want to train her, but more than that, it is a beautiful and spiritual experience to share the natural world with a dog who loves to walk and explore.

Training a dog makes me think, it forces me to be patient, thoughtful. This morning, when I took Zinnia outside and asked her to come, she simply sat down and stared at me as if I were a frog who had just jumped out of the pond. A part of me got frustrated, even anger. She knows what “come” means.

A better angel told me to stop, wait, think, don’t mess up this dog with anger. So I walked away. I looked at my iPhone, stared at the sky. I walked behind the car.

Zinnia got curious and came running over to me. I opened the car door. “Come here,” I said in a soft but enthusiastic voice. She came. Why did she balk? I don’t know, and it doesn’t matter. Rather than turn it into a shouting confrontation, or succumbing to my own large ego, I just moved around it and started over.

She’s coming again now.

That is good for me. This morning, I had a panic attack over my upcoming jury duty. It was a strange and rare thing for me, it somehow evoked particular and frightening memories of things I was once forced to do. It felt awful.

I felt the old symptoms – nausea, drowsiness, a terror disconnected from reality.

I grabbed Zinnia, got her into the car, drove to a nearby hill and went for a mile-long walk with her. I loved watching her romp through the fields. She came every time I called.  She lay down every time I asked.

As we walked, I said “heel,” and tapped my knew and she walked alongside of me without pulling. I thought the word has a lot of meaning, no matter how one spells it.

We had a lovely and calming time. I saw my panic as both false and old, nothing to do with my life now. It was long gone by the time we returned home.

I went into my office and wrote this pose, Zinnia lay down next to me on her bed in my office. Dogs have always helped me to heal, I owe them more than I could ever repay.