How My Dog Became My Spiritual Teacher
A Tail of Transformation Through Dealing With Separation Anxiety
Hello My Friend!
I’ve missed the past couple of weeks. I wrote but didn’t publish. I’ve learned my writing doesn’t flow if it comes from topic obligation. More on this in the P.S. below my essay.
Thank you for reading my newsletter. I appreciate you.
How My Dog Became My Spiritual Teacher
Returning home after a week away, I expected a joyful, wiggly-butt reunion. Instead, I was met by concerned neighbours discussing the incessant barking dog that filled our shared walls with sounds of distress. As I approached, I wondered what dog they were talking about. As I got closer I knew. They were talking about my Sadie.
Crap. We had just moved in after living in an Airbnb for 2 years because it was so hard to find a rental that took large dogs. The last thing we needed was to get kicked out because of her barking.
“You’re poor dog,” the man with salt and pepper hair began, his tone serious, yet sympathetic. “She sounds like she’s dying.”
His response caught me off guard. Oh boy, I thought to myself. That’s a bit of an exaggeration. I know the bark. It’s the same one used to protect the front yard from squirrels and babies in strollers at our old house. She’s not dying.
I initially rationalized her behaviour as a response to hearing them outside our door. I soon learned, we were unable to leave her by herself at all. I hypothesized that our recent move, my husband no longer working from home, and my absence, had sown seeds of anxiety in Sadie, turning our sanctuary into a stage for a lesson I hadn't known I needed. What was to come tested my patience and brought out the worst in me.
I wish I could say, “In the days that followed, Sadie, in her silent wisdom, began to teach me more about the essence of living fully than any book or teacher ever could.”
But I can’t.
Yet.
We’re still in the throes of this. Separation anxiety is no joke.
Sadie, a dog with an unassuming grace — nicknamed “Fancy” because of her show-horse prance and the way she sits with her paws crossed — has an uncanny ability to mirror my deepest emotions. Recently, she’s become my unexpected spiritual guide.
The thought that Sadie, my calm and composed companion, could be the source of such distress was as surprising as it was alarming. Since returning from that trip a month ago, she will not leave my side. Her distress is evident at the slightest shift in my seat. This unexpected turn not only challenged my perception of her independence but also signaled the start of an uncharted journey for us both.
Dinner plans with friends made months in advance resulted in us sitting on a dog-friendly patio in the middle of winter. My entire routine revolved around making sure Sadie wasn’t left alone. This clinginess, while initially endearing, significantly strained our relationship.
Over the weeks, my frustration escalated. Reaching for my phone or cup of tea resulted in her getting up, eyes wide to see if I’d leave her. I stopped allowing her to sit in my office while I was working.
The more I craved space, the clingier she got. Even with my husband home with her, she’d wait anxiously by the door for me. I eventually snapped at her to stop following me and to go to her bed. It was then I paused. Ashamed. I was not being the best version of myself.
I knew being frustrated didn’t help.
She’s a pack animal, I reasoned with myself. It’s not her fault. I need to reframe my thoughts and create psychological safety.
I tried.
In earnest…for a full day.
An hour long walk, time at the dog park, a stop into Bosley’s for a special treat, plus Starbucks for a puppuccino, and I even worked from my bed letting her up to sit next to me. All energy and interactions were positive. I believed in her.
At the end of a lovely day, I put her to bed and tucked her in. We’re off to a great start! Positivity wins the day!
Half asleep, sitting on the toilet to pee in the middle of the night, I looked up and there she was, staring anxiously at me as if I could somehow get flushed down never to be seen again. She followed me lying down next to my bedside.
According to the internet it can take 6 months to a year to resolve separation anxiety
“No no. Go to your bed,” I said sweetly. She slunk away, head down. Moments later I awakened. My eyes still closed, I felt her staring at me. She began panting a foot from my face. I don’t understand. While I’m sleeping, she’s lying across the front of the bedroom door. How could she possibly be afraid that I’ll leave her? If only she could see that she’s okay. Without verbal communication how am I meant to reassure her?
I then knew this was not going to be a one day fix. I grabbed my phone. According to the internet it can take 6 months to a year to resolve separation anxiety. It’s a gradual and very slow process of finding her outer boundary of space and incrementally working toward expanding that radius. Eventually we will be able to work on her spending time apart from me. I’m to desensitize her to my leaving and reward her for staying by herself. How can I do this if she’s constantly by my side?
I can’t control what happens, but I can control how I respond. I think to myself.
“It’s okay Sadie. You’re okay. Go to your bed.” She plopped down across the threshold to ensure I couldn’t escape without her knowing. Her chin on the floor, she watched me.
As I laid there wide awake I remembered something Eckhart Tolle, the author of The Power of Now, said about being genuinely grateful for any suffering experienced in life. Accept what is and don’t convert it to unhappiness.
I asked myself, what has me responding the way I am? What is this trying to teach me? Surprised by the level of upset I felt when I had snapped at her, I wondered what was underneath it. How can I be grateful for this situation?
In my introspection, and for the sake of Sadie’s and my quality of life, I am viewing her anxiety as spiritual practice. If I see this as an opportunity, I reasoned, I can become a better human.
Ordinarily I find myself regularly reacting before pausing. By learning to let go of my expectations of Sadie’s pace of progress, I can learn the art of cultivating stillness. Over the next however long, Sadie will undoubtedly give me plenty of opportunities to practice pausing and being still. This isn’t just about patience; it’s a gateway to deeper empathy and self-discovery, allowing me to evaluate situations more thoughtfully before responding.
Things are already starting to improve. I was able to go upstairs to brush my teeth while she stayed downstairs. I imagine eventually I’ll be able to leave the house for 5 minutes, then maybe an hour. If not, she’s 11 years old. I get the honour of spending the next few years with a fancy, goofball of a dog by my side.
If you have any tips for dealing with separation anxiety please let me know.
Special thanks to
and for helpful feedback on this. It made it so this didn’t come across as me starting the Church of Sadie lol.P.S. Continuing about writing flow mentioned at the beginning. In a previous newsletter I said I’d publish a letter a month to my daughter about the money lessons I’ve learned. My intention was to get clarity on my thoughts and learn how to avoid coming across as preachy. I’ve let go of the need to do these posts every month and will instead write them when it comes naturally. I found it tough to get across through writing the nuances of the thoughts, feelings, and emotions about money matters. I want to do those posts justice so will publish them as they come up.
Thank you for being here. I’ve missed you!
Miche
...dogs are such incredible friends...fancy seems radical...my dog Sota had anxiety so we tried to solve it by getting him another dog companion...now we just have two dogs one anxious and one insatiably hungry at all times...great lesson in this that the challenges that life gives us can be reconfigured into opportunities...good luck on your journey :)...
Wow Miche. I can feel the magnitude of this challenge. Impressed by your determination to use it for growth while serving your pup. Bless you and Sadie.