What my new dog is teaching me about how to love and be loved
Life lessons from a little kangaroo/a little otter/schmeep/schmeepy girl/smurphy/red rider/murpharello/murphmello
Adoration continues to be my drug of choice
This is more of a confirmation than a new lesson. But I have truly never felt naked adoration from a living thing as acutely as I feel it from my dog. The way she looks at me is indescribable to anyone who is not a dog person, and is instantly resonant with those who are. She gazes at me with love bordering on reverence. All pets are like this to a degree, but even for a dog, Murphy is a LOVER. She adores cuddling (pic for reference, and for gratuitous cute-dog-bragging).
She snuffles around my neck, pheromone seeking, before finally letting out a deep breath and settling in. We lay together cheek to cheek, and I can feel her deep sniffs of contentment. To have another creature delight in my presence so extravagantly is intoxicating, I will not lie to you. The fact that she is a dog and this is just what dogs do does not dampen my enjoyment in the slightest. In human relationships, I have repeatedly felt (and received unfortunate confirmation) that I am difficult to love - my relational needs are too high, my expectations are unrealistic, my emotional expressions are too indulgent and/or dramatic. It turns out, maybe I just needed to get a dog? (Only 50% joking, s/o to all my therapists past and present)
Needing space is not synonymous with “falling out of love”
When Murphy loves, she loves very hard. But, as with any living thing, there are times when she just wants to be on her own. Sometimes I pull her onto the couch with me and she immediately jumps up and returns to her nest on the ground, or her bed, or her crate. I feel a flicker of disappointment, but I do not fear that she is falling out of love with me or growing tired of me or any manner of relational anxieties that rear their heads in my human relationships.
This is because I don’t feel the urge to question Murphy’s motives. If she removes herself from my embrace, I usually assume she is getting too warm, or her limbs just want to move, or she’s simply done cuddling. With my people, I am much less gracious when my bids for intimacy aren’t accepted. My husband and I recently had a dust up because I specifically asked him to cuddle with me, and his half-hearted response (leaning against me WITH A PILLOW BETWEEN HIS HEAD AND MY BODY) was not well-received. After some negotiations, I had to accept that because of my orientation on the couch, assuming a cuddling position would be relegating him to a craned neck for the next 30 minutes, and he just wasn’t feeling enthusiastic about that option. Silly as it is, I have to be reminded that he is a creature as well, with a body that wants to be comfortable and sometimes it’s as simple as that.
Love does not have to be risky in order to be valuable
Somewhere along the way, I created a false dichotomy that true love is uncomfortable and scary. Sometimes, it is. But my mistake was believing that discomfort was a feature of love, rather than a bug. I mistook fear for butterflies. I relabeled constant uneasiness as excitement, a sign that I was “being kept on my toes.” I bought the lie that having a passionate relationship meant never knowing quite where I stood with my partner, and that this riskiness and uncertainty lent eventual expressions of love more validity. Additionally, having a previous “failed marriage” wherein my partner and I took one another’s presence and assumption of love for granted, I am inappropriately but understandably wary of the settling that occurs in long-term relationships. I have been working to untangle the idea that love can be steady, and low-maintenance without losing what makes it valuable and meaningful (again, s/o to all my therapists past and present).
Murphy is the perfect embodiment of love that is low-stakes and pure gold. She does not think I am particularly special or unique, yet she loves me extravagantly. Showing her love involves no risk whatsoever, but the payoff is majorly rewarding. There is no drama, but the depth of my love for her is unquestionable.
I still find myself falsely equating drama with desire, and comfort with boredom. But I am thankful for the ways that Murphy, and my husband, are patiently showing me that the value of love is not predicated on risk of rejection.
How to ask for love without fear
In summary, Murphy loves to love and she is damn good at it. Her favorite thing is when my husband and I are hugging or kissing, she wiggles right into the mix and puts her snout on our joined mouths and breathes noisily and delightedly. She asks for the love she wants without fear of rejection and she is showing me how to do it.
You just do it. You believe that your person loves you, you revel in it, you do not question it or convince yourself that the love may fade. You take up space in their life, you take them for granted, you kiss them often even when they seem busy or annoyed or are actually trying to kiss someone else - obviously this last part is not applicable if you aren’t a dog and are a person, and the person you love is kissing another person. Give them space if so. Or politely ask to cut in? Or offer to join. Obviously replacing a dog with a human in this scenario raises the stakes. But the idea is to not be ashamed, or embarrassed, or coy about asking for the love you want in the moment. If this sounds obvious, I am happy for you. For some of us it’s all felt very fraught for a long time. So with peace and love, I’ll just be over here, gathering life-changing lessons from my 5 month old dog.