My Conversation with Budot

There is a time, albeit quite rarely, when a certain realization seems to seize our being. At such a time everything comes clear, that even established or treasured personal philosophies get shaken or discarded outright. It’s such realization that I recently had – thanks to Budot, my dear dog.

On a Sunday afternoon, Budot and I had a conversation. Technically, it wasn’t really a conversation. Although I literally spoke to the dog, I was making up his part of the exchange in my mind. It was, for the most part, an imaginary conversation.

I had my questions. The answers were gathered from my observations of Budot’s behavior towards me, in our almost two years’ time together. The wisdom I discerned was amazing. 

(The questions in italics are mine. The answers are Budot’s, hypothetically.)

Why do you seem to celebrate being around me?

I don’t have a word to label the feeling. But I need you, my fate is in your hands. You are the one who decides what I eat, when I eat; whether I live or die. You are God to me – whether you really are or not, I don’t care.

I feel secure being around you. And so I want you to be well always. It is nothing sentimental, my exuberance about you has practical basis – your wellbeing is my wellbeing, too. My life is doomed without you.

This irritating noise you make every time I leave home for work – what is it about?

I’m sorry about that, but I just can’t help it. Maybe it’s my fear of your absence. But, you see, I stop crying as soon as I lose sight of you. I quickly replace my fear with hope… that you will come back, that you will still want me around, that you will remain to be my dutiful master.

And, boy, am I right! You always come back home and continue to provide my needs. You continue to play with me and care for me, and talk to me as well. I hope you will remain this way to me. I trust you will.

You don’t seem to resent my occasional cruelty at you. There was a time when you bled profusely after I hit you repeatedly with a hard object; but as soon as I stopped, you were licking my feet again. From where do you draw such inexhaustible sense of loyalty and goodwill?

I allow you to release your anger on me, even when it is not my fault, just so that you will feel good afterwards. But it’s not your fault, either. I trust that it is never your intention to hurt or harm me.

Perhaps you had a bad day at work or was disappointed with someone or over something, and you got carried away by your feelings of frustration. It is just like that in life sometimes.

But don’t you hold a slight grudge at least, even for a short few minutes?

It’s a waste of time and emotions. A moment spent brooding over your unkind treatment of me does not make my hurt stop. It would be such a waste of time, yours and mine; time that I prefer to use to patch things up between us. Then I feel better.

Besides, we won’t be together for eternity. I feel a sense of urgency to celebrate to the fullest the times I have with you. Your time is not exclusive for me, I know, and neither is your attention. I’m glad enough to have a little of both.

I’m okay with what little time and attention is left from your day at work and a huddle with friends – even if at times I’d get it the wrong way and you’d hit me instead of hug me. For everything I get from you, I offer my unconditional loyalty.