My Guru of the Sharp Teeth and Claws
The message from my four-legged teacher
Oh, friends.
I’m on a road trip to pick up something very exciting; I’ll share more about that later. I’m writing this post two days late, sitting in a Starbucks in a small town in Arizona, while the pup sleeps.
Last night was a new low. At 3:30 am I stood in a hotel bathroom, holding a puppy smeared with her own shit and urine, wondering what to do.
Let’s go back to the start of the day, and what lessons my four-legged Guru is teaching me through her spiritual essence as messenger from the animal cosmos.
Mystic is great traveling, except that as with most puppies she doesn’t like to poop or pee someplace new. Or really it is not that she doesn’t like to release the goodness of her bowels and bladder on holy land, it is just there are so many other things to smell and investigate.
I arrived at the hotel at 10:30 pm, near the border of New Mexico and Arizona. We stood outside as I pleaded for her to potty. I chanted the sacred mantra in a high, spiritual voice: Go potty! Go potty! Go potty! Go potty!
She was not impressed by my petition.
So I brought her inside and tucked her into her meditation cave for the evening.
The moment my head touched the pillow, she began to bark. I whispered sweet nothings. I channeled my best shhhh impression of a librarian on hallowed ground. I yelled. I brought her out of her meditation cave to drink a sip of cleansing water and carried her outside to release her goodness. She refused.
Back to the meditation cave.
Again, the moment I began to sink into the bed her protests and prayers to her disciplines on any and all continents to hear her desire for play escalated in volume and intensity.
I sleepily brought her outside again for another attempt at depositing her inner gifts to the waiting earth, to no avail. I sat on the floor and cuddled her in the dark, whispering her brilliance and magnificence into her ear.
Then after a third attempt for sleep, I lost my mind.
Now, usually in spiritual context losing your mind can mean you have finally broken the grip of your mental construct and dropped into the infinite ocean of your heart.
This was not that.
I yelled, snatched her up, grabbed her crate, and marched her back to the truck.
“Gooo. Tooo. Sleeeeep.” I hissed to the Guru.
Then I shut the door and attempted to follow my own orders.
I slept fitfully for about an hour in between coughing (allergies are wildly intense right now) and wondering if the Guru Queen of Border Collies was resting comfortably.
When I went to check on her Royal Highness, the stench hit me the moment I opened the door.
The Guru had soiled her royal chambers and then thoroughly paw-painted herself and her surroundings with soggy shit.
I pondered the choice. Shut the door and go back to bed. Bring the Guru inside for a purifying ritual. Call someone to come get me and take the Guru back to her birthplace.
On reflection, I opted for choice #2.
Inside the truck was a flannel sheet that I wrapped Her Highness in and carried her sleepy stinky form into the hotel.
Then we stood in the bathroom for a long time as I contemplated the next horrible choice.
“Okay, let’s do this,” I said out loud.
Sheet in the bathtub to create a small amount of soft comfort. Then brute force to hold the tiny but stronger-than-the-big-bang-energetic-emanations of the Guru’s physical form as I administered the purifying waters.
“This is when parents start saving for the kid’s therapy,” I thought to myself. I felt in that moment, sitting on the bathroom floor forcing submission to the greater good of a sweet-smelling fur that I was completely, utterly, and irrevocably damaging my spiritual companion for good.
I used a grey t-shirt and maroon merino wool top to dry her off, and then ran around with her in the hotel room to help her dry off.
Next choice; how do I get Her crate clean of the royal emissions?
As I stood at my truck holding the Guru tightly I remembered my previous smart buy: a very tasty dried animal part in case of emergencies. I took said tasty treat, put it on the front seat, deposited Her Highness, and prayed she would not eat the treat and not the car.
In an earlier flash of intuitive precognition I had purchased a bag full of rags and a huge container of wet wipes. Thank the Goddess. I pulled them out of the back of the truck, thanked the vision of my yesterday self, and turned to the task.
After a few wipes it was obvious the extent of the Guru’s offering was highly generous. So I pulled the crate out, set it on the flat trailer I was pulling, and set my iPhone to Illuminate, (aka in muggle terms Flashlight) propped it up so I could see within the Guru’s meditation cave.
Then I rolled up my sleeves, gingerly picked out the multiple soiled Divine Toys, and started scrubbing.
We did get a few hours sleep.
Later that morning I made the choice faced by all parents — the releasing of expectation, morals, and visions of doing everything the natural, holistic, organic, good for the earth, good for gut biome, toxic-free way.
I emptied out a plastic water bottle and handed it to her.
The Guru was delighted, having transcended the superfluous differences between the petroleum products that are choking our earth and all natural chews that our designed to save the environment and bless doggy teeth with their very expensive vegan mix of nutrients formed into bone shape.
I had approximately four minutes to pack everything up as the Guru chased the water bottle back and forth, demonstrating the eternal movement of the cosmos.
All soiled linens went into the tiny trash bags I scavenged from around the room. I piled these on top of my bag of clean cloths, then stuffed in the various bits and bobbles of the Guru: snacks, toys, bowls.
I offered up a prayer and a deep bow for all parents navigating toddlers. Oy. How does the human race continue? That is my koan.
The Guru looks at me and reminds me of the eternal answer.
Epilogue: Mystic and I are on the way back from Arizona to New Mexico and travel is smooth. Exercise pens and bones for the win!
But here is the true transmission from the Guru: SLOW DOWN.
She is teaching me to pace myself. To pay attention more closely. To release expectations and listen to what is needed. To do a little at a time.
I had gotten used to my long solo days in Woodstock NY in January and February; it has taken me the entire month of March to get into a new rhythm of short bursts. Short stretches of writing. Short stretches of training. Slow and stretched out introductions to new things.
It has also taken me the month to realize I am grieving Demi Goddess. So I’m letting tears fall of missing my former companion, so I can make more space for Mystic, exactly who and where she is right now.
Loves, please watch the video below (it is 29 minutes; watch at least the first 5 minutes)
Thank you to Annika Ford sharing it with me and sharing her experience as a black woman in these times.
From the description: This video is about white people reacting to the news about President Donald trump lifting bans on segregation in the federal level. White people took to TikTok reacting to it.
On Saturday, April 5th I’ll be at the Hands Off rally in Santa Fe. These mass mobilizations are happening in all 50 states and multiple cities. Please consider joining a rally near you on Saturday… details below.
If you have never been to a protest, or if it has been a while please review guidelines and learn about nonviolent protest. This is about bringing our voices together in creative, nonviolent, and effective ways.
https://nonviolencetoolkit.com
https://activisthandbook.org/trainings
We are powerful. Your voice matters. Let’s go slow. Pace yourself. Pay attention but don’t overwhelm yourself. Release expectations and listen to what is needed. Do a little at a time.
If you can’t get to a rally for whatever reason, take some time on Saturday to learn and be inspired by people’s actions. Look for the helpers. Look to history and find inspiration and hope. Vision the future you want to live in.
You are loved.
This had me laughing, tearing up, and whispering “yep” like a monk watching a puppy eat his prayer beads.
Mystic is clearly a four-legged Zen master sent to humble, initiate, and rewire you (and all of us through you). The line about snatching up the crate and declaring “Gooo. Tooo. Sleeeeep.” had me howling—because I’ve been there, in that holy breakdown where the ego cracks and grace seeps in disguised as dog poop.
Thank you for not hiding the mess. For turning chaos into communion. For reminding us that grief and growth often show up covered in fur and divine mischief. Demi-Goddess must be proud. Mystic is clearly not here to replace her, but to continue the teachings with fresh paws and wild timing.
Slow is sacred. Short bursts are holy. Thank you for this permission slip wrapped in comedy and clarity.
This had me laughing, tearing up, and whispering “yep” like a monk watching a puppy eat his prayer beads.
Mystic is clearly a four-legged Zen master sent to humble, initiate, and rewire you (and all of us through you). The line about snatching up the crate and declaring “Gooo. Tooo. Sleeeeep.” had me howling—because I’ve been there, in that holy breakdown where the ego cracks and grace seeps in disguised as dog poop.
Thank you for not hiding the mess. For turning chaos into communion. For reminding us that grief and growth often show up covered in fur and divine mischief. Demi-Goddess must be proud. Mystic is clearly not here to replace her, but to continue the teachings with fresh paws and wild timing.
Slow is sacred. Short bursts are holy. Thank you for this permission slip wrapped in comedy and clarity.