Happy is Puppy

I keep thinking about the yellow pencil in my sisters' Hello Kitty miniature colored pencil set.  Along its tiny length, it read, "Yellow is fried egg."  I haven't seen that pencil in probably 25 years (until I found its image on the interwebs), but the words are still with me.  I love the unlikely construction, and the funny choice of fried egg.  Of course, yes, it's true -- yellow is fried egg, but why not sun or flower or little bird?

I've had my own little refrain along these lines for a week now, since Mr Burns came home. And that refrain is simply, "Happy is Puppy."  Not just the happy that I feel in his presence, the delight of watching what he does, smelling his fur, feeling his warm little body next to mine, stretched out on the couch.  But the happy that he is.

It's so deeply inspiring to consider the deep happiness of being puppy.  How everything for Mr Burns is just amazing, every experience fresh, every creature a potential playmate. How we and every one, to him, are subjects and objects of bottomless love.

His life is pretty great and I find I want to emulate him in so many ways.  In the morning, when he opens his eyes and lets us know he's awake, we come to him, cooing and petting and singing, then it's snuggle-time in bed for a little while.  Then it's breakfast, which is the source of so much skipping Snoopy-dancing joy.  Then it's back to cozy on bed or couch.  I walk him (or try to, since he's fantastically uninterested), then drop him off at Joe's shop on my way to work.  Mr Burns stays with Joe all day, at the shop or to clients.  Mostly he sleeps, meets new people, plays with the dogs next door, and sleeps.  Sometimes we all get together for lunch and sit together outside.  At the end of the day, I pick him up and drive him home, where we meet Joe, who's used his bike to return.  Then we play and eat and go to sleep.

Pretty dreamy.  No worries.  Just joy in every moment.

It's been such a useful contrast for me, since my work has been hectic and stressful and not altogether pleasant -- ok, downright unpleasant -- for the last few weeks.  I'm still sorting out what I'm doing and for how long and the big When of When Will I Finally Write The Book?  And we've been pretty sleepless for a week, learning along with Mr Burns about how to get through the night with a tiny bladder in the house.  But still, I've been watching him and thinking about how joyful he is, what a little being of light.  Generally I loathe that expression, but when I see Mr Burns, it's all I can think.  He's just light embodied in this darling sable-coated package.  He bounces into a room and the whole thing shines right up. Even when he's sleeping, he keeps that little nightlight glowing.

What if we lived like that, we the people in this equation?  What if we approached every day with as much open-hearted enthusiasm as our little four-legged, what if we had the freedom to just be what we are, offer that and revel in it? What if we got to spend every day doing just what we wanted, whether it's chewing on toys, dreaming or playing?

As tired as we are, I think we get the message, incredible Mr Burns.

We do.

We can approach each day like you do, do what our passion is, feel free and joyful in every moment.  We just have to remember -- sometimes we just need to look at you to be reminded -- that we too are in this form to prance and play, loving our people big time, giving dogs lots of pets.