I have had canine companions almost my entire adult life. I remember them all and the affects they had on me and my life. The lessons they introduced to me in the form of affirmations or challenges have helped to make me who I am. Without them, not only would I be different, but life would be darker. And colder.

Every living being has a soul. Its their connection to the power that gave them that life. Affirming that, or disavowing it, makes no difference. It is what it is. Its the thing that connects us all. Again, whether it is acknowledged, or otherwise. Choosing to believe or disbelieve it doesn’t erase it. It simply hides itself within whatever explanation is given for the essence of life. But its there.

All animals approach life with some discernment. Some people refer to it as instinct. But what is the nature of instinct. It is merely learning how to read a situation and discerning an appropriate course of action. Its what gives a smaller animal the awareness to elude a predator or the difference between two equally trained athletes when one becomes a champion and the other languishes with less success. Discernment and action. Instinct.

The dogs I live with communicate with each other. Just because I don’t understand what they are saying doesn’t mean they aren’t saying anything. They are speaking in a language foreign to me. I don’t know what Habibi is telling Tupac as he barks from the yard while Tupac naps inside. I know that Tupac knows. He has a different reaction to Habibi’s different barks. The more intense Habibi sounds, the more exaggerated Tupac’s reaction. But whatever Habibi is saying, he is only speaking to Tupac. I have repeatedly witnessed my other dog, Nalah, sitting silently as Habibi raises the alarm, or whatever he is doing.

Habibi seems to be more empathetic than either of the other two. He is the one who comforts the others when either of them are feeling pain or discomfort. He is also more docile than other two. More quiet in general. He only barks to inform Tupac or while he is dreaming.

Nalah, on the other hand, is a extraordinarily adept communicator. She will bark at a door knock or bell. Or at unexpected voices, even ones that should be familiar to her. Fireworks and night winds are particularly troubling to her. But her offers to share her joys are equally intense. At 70 pounds, a hard lean from her could knock a small person over.

Tupac is most clearly the leader. The other two both show deference to him. Many people think a pack leader is determined by the human involved. I don’t believe that is the case with the dogs that live here. Both Habibi and Nalah mounted challenges to Tupac’s authority and lost. They were spontaneous events that I did not foresee. They were prompted and acted on by something Habibi and Nalah saw independently from me, and each other. Perhaps they were rites of passage that many younger dogs experience. What I know is that Tupac taught them something they weren’t aware of before.

They have established their own form of hierarchy. You can call it a pack. Or a society with a ruler and rules. The words don’t really matter. What matters is that they made it what it is just by being who they are. They understand their own limitations and value.

They all feel love and joy, and know what it is to be comforted. Pain, anger, and distrust are also evident in their behavior. These are not new ideas to anyone who has taken the time to get to know their companions. It is obvious to anyone who can see a being for what they are, and not what they want them to be.

As I opened with, I have lived with dogs almost my entire adult life. Toulousse, Manhattan, Punkin, Malaki, Tupac, Habibi, and Nalah. I fostered Lucky, the dog of a family member when they fell on hard times. All of them, with the exception of Lucky and Habibi came to me as puppies. Habibi was not quite a year old when he was brought here. He, Tupac, and Nalah are still here with me. Toulousse lived to be 14 years old and died from old age. All the others passed away between the ages of 12 and 13 from different cancers. Fifty percent of all dogs over 10 will develop cancer. Perhaps that percentage will drop as veterinary medicine makes advances in the fight against this scourge.

Dogs do not have agendas or hidden motives. They don’t manipulate situations to their advantage. They just live the lives they are given. They make the best of whatever situations they find themselves in. Because they live without guile, they are confident in being where they are supposed to be, in the fatalistic sense. Certainly the dogs who live with humans have less stressful lives than dogs who don’t, but both lives have value because they are being lived by soulful beings. Just like the lives of financially rich people are no more valuable than the lives of people who live with less money.

The dogs I live with are equal to me in all non-materialistic ways. I am responsible for their lifestyle, not their lives. How they came to be what they are, where they are was decided by a power far beyond my own. Just as I had no hand in the beginning of their lives, I have no hand in the end. I have never had a dog “put down.” Their deaths can’t be at my convenience. The power that took their lives allowed me to be present in the end for all of them. Whether it was because I sensed something coming, or coincidence had me at home at the time, I was able to offer what little comfort I could. But even if life hadn’t let me be in their moment, they would have left knowing love.

Suffering through to the end is a part of living life to the fullest. I was the caregiver for both of my parents at the end of their days. Not once did I consider ending their suffering prematurely. No decision I made for them was based on what was best for me. I am the master of my own universe of one, but that does not extend beyond what is controlled by my beating heart. Because all life is sentient.

From left to right, Tupac, Habibi, and Nalah