Dekker’s Wisdom

From the Floor, Still Watching

There are some forms of wisdom that don’t announce themselves.

They don’t come with degrees or titles, or even with words most of the time. They come in the steady presence of someone—or in this case, someone with four legs—who simply stays.

Dekker is older now.

Not in a dramatic way that calls attention to itself. But I notice it in the small things…how he rises a bit more slowly, how he chooses his resting places more carefully, how his eyes linger just a moment longer before he moves.

And yet—his steadiness has deepened in a way that is hard to describe.

He is still loyal as only a service dog can be. Still attentive. Still eager to respond when someone reaches out with a question, as though each one matters. (He sees every person as special).

Perhaps that is his gift.

He does not rush past what is asked of him. He listens from the floor, barely lifting an ear. 

And then, in his own way, he answers.

A Few Questions for Dekker

Question from Ellen:
“Dekker, I find myself feeling more alone as I get older,
even when I am surrounded by people. What should I do?”

Woof Woof, Ellen,

Feeling alone in a room full of people sounds confusing…like being at the dog park, and no one wants to sniff hello.

When I want to feel close to someone, I don’t try to say the perfect thing. I simply move close. Sometimes I lean my whole body against them.

Have you tried being close without explaining yourself? (Oops…my person just reminded me that people feel differently than dogs about that!)

Maybe there is one person you could sit beside without filling the air with words. Just sharing the same space. That, too, is a kind of belonging.

Do you think closeness might feel different if it didn’t require so much talking?

Question from Marjorie:
“Dekker, my body is slowing down, and I don’t like it.
How do you accept change?”

Woof Woof, Marjorie,

Ah…yes. Bodies do change. I have noticed this in myself too.

When I cannot run as fast, I spend more time noticing smells along the path. When I cannot jump as high, I find a sunny spot instead.

The world has not disappeared…only my way of moving through it has shifted.

Do you think there are new “smells” in your life that you have not had time to notice before?

Slower does not always mean less. It can bring you a lot more….smells, sights, sounds…and you might even find an unchewed bone along the way.

Question from Linda:
“Dekker, I worry a lot about the future.
Things feel uncertain. How do you stay calm?”

Woof Woof, Linda,

The future feels like a squirrel that is not even in the yard yet.

I do not chase it.

When storms come, I find a safe place…or I sit closer to my person. That is enough.

Right now, I can feel the floor beneath me…and hear someone nearby. And the only thing moving is my nose. I haven’t figured out how to stop it from twitching. But nothing bad happens.

What is real right now for you? Does your nose twitch like mine? That’s OK.

Perhaps calm is closer than you think.

Question from Diane:
“Dekker, I feel like I’m not as useful as I used to be.
What gives life meaning now?”

Woof Woof, Diane,

Usefulness is a big word for humans.

I used to do many things to help my person. Now I do fewer things. But I stay close. I watch. I respond when needed.

My person still needs me. Not because I do everything…but because I am here.

Do you think being present could be a kind of usefulness?

Sometimes the greatest thing I offer is simply staying nearby.

Question from Penny:
“For years, I have wondered why we want to be remembered
after we die? I can think of many possible reasons,
but none of them seem very worthy to me…
more like a last ego project.”

Woof Woof, Penny,

Remembering is a curious thing.

I do not try to be remembered. I do not think about tomorrow’s memory of today. I simply stay close while I am here.

But I have noticed something…

My person remembers me anyway.

Not because I tried to leave a mark…or did something important in a human way. But because I was there when it mattered. Sitting nearby. Watching. Loving.

I think humans may want to be remembered because they want to know they were here…that they mattered.

But perhaps that happens in a quieter way than we expect.

Perhaps it happens in the moments when we stay. When we listen. When we do not leave.

Do you think someone already carries you with them…even now?

Question from Carol:
“Dekker, how do I know if I am ‘enough’ just as I am?”

Woof Woof, Carol,

I have never wondered if I am enough.

I wake up. I stretch. I greet the day. That seems to be enough for being a dog.

When my person looks at me, I can feel something warm…something that does not ask me to be different.

I wonder…do you allow yourself to be seen that way?

Or do you keep asking yourself to become something more before you are allowed to rest?

You are already in the pack.

You already belong.

Before You Go…

Dekker listens carefully to what you bring.

He does not rush, and he is not a fixer…unless you have a bone you want stripped clean.

But he notices…everything.

If you have a question you would like him to consider, you are always welcome to leave it in the comments. He reads them all—usually from a comfortable spot on the floor—and I have a suspicion he enjoys the attention more than he lets on.

 And perhaps, in the asking, you may find that something in you has already begun to answer.

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“Woof, Woof” –That’s Dekker’s way of saying he
wants to send you more wisdom, but where?