“I cannot make the universe obey me. I cannot make other people conform to my whims and fancies. I cannot make even my own body obey me.” – Thomas Merton.

When I first started writing, I got a yellow Lab named Julius. When I brought him home, it was a couple of days before I realized that he would become my teacher and also my guide and companion as I began my solitary life as a book writer.

He was eight weeks old and put his head in my lap on the way home. He was a constant presence to me, walking where I walked, sitting with me when I wrote.

He accompanied me on my first journeys upstate to the country, and like Rose, and then Red, he offered me support, comfort, and companionship when I needed it.

I think of Julius sometimes as Zinnia, and I recreate that experience. Zinnia lives entirely in the moment; she is curious about every single thing she smells, sees, hears, or senses.

Whenever I was stuck on something to write, I would take a walk and Julius – he was never on a leash – would walk with me through my busy New Jersey town, I never had to look to see where he was, he was always there.

I asked a priest once how to learn humility. He told me to take some money I was going to use to buy myself something I wanted and give it to the poor, and don’t ever tell anyone about it. If you have a penny, give a penny.

I had $10. I was going to use to buy  a book, and I gave $10 to a poor man living on the street. And this is the first time I have ever mentioned it.

Zinnia is a constant presence in my life now; she accepts me completely. Dogs give to the poor all the time; they never judge.

She pays no attention to my moods; she bears no grudges and hangs onto no bad memories. She never fears the future.

I have never been good or easy at making friends; there has always been loneliness hovering over me that is sometimes sad, but occasionally peaceful and joyous. It was just the way I was formed, I think, something I just grew up feeling.

I share this with my dogs. Since Maria came into my life, the loneliness I feel is internal, a part of me. It no longer has anything to do with the outside world.  I am at a good place in my life now, Maria and a few friends are enough.

Sometimes she smells a flower, once in awhile she eats one, she loves to roll in the grass and chase Fate around the sheep. The minute I go into my study, she curls up next to my chair and often sleeps with her head on my feet.

Zinnia grasped or sensed somehow that my life centers around my writing, my blog, my photos. She just comes along to observe and be.

She is still when I am still, and when I need to be still. I appreciate how she experiences the world; her nose goes everywhere and gets the story of the earth. When I sit down on a log in the woods to rest, she sits down with me.

My dogs have taught me many things, especially the Labs and border collies; they have shown me how to be connected to the world. Bud, primarily, has taught me humility, he has walked through the fire without anger or defeat, he never gave up on love.

Humility is freedom from pride or arrogance; the quality or state of being humble. It was pride that changed angels into devils, said Saint Augustine, it is humility that makes men as angels.

My dogs bring me back to life whenever I tire or weaken, their joy for life, their curiosity, and love of nature life me up. The border collies always taught me that the energy of the world flows through whatever moment we are sharing.

I didn’t realize at first how much I needed Julius; I didn’t know at first how much I needed Zinnia.

Her gentleness and sweetness make me humble. When you live with a dog, ou can learn humility. Just watch them.

Zinnia’s love is pure and not hesitant or uncertain. I tell myself to live as humbly as a dog, and the world will always come alive.