A summer lesson on canine companionship

I was not looking for a dog this summer. During my adult life I have never had one. Nonetheless, Yoshi and I found each other. We immediately recognized ourselves as members of the same pack and started hanging out together. Spot was my last dog, over half a century ago—a good dog for a kid.

What kind of dog might work for an introverted, sometimes grumpy man who does not like barking and overflowing creatures jumping on and licking me?

I am not a "dog person." I am a "chicken man," and sometimes the two don't mix. A dog once killed dozens of my chickens, which I resented. Another dog bit me when I was a boy. Now I'm a convert to loving and being loved by a dog.

Yoshi and I met at a large rural party near my farm between Sebastopol and Cotati. We saw each other; his human companion soon turned the leash over to me. We roamed together for hours, so full of delight.

Yoshi is easy to follow. Meandering with a partner can be fun. He leads me to places, in the inner and outer worlds, where I would not otherwise go.

Yoshi is a shiba inu—a mid-size, cat-like Japanese dog. His regular companion is Kendra, whom I did not know, but we had heard of each other. Yoshi and Kendra tend to be more trusting than I. Right before meeting Yoshi, I saw the recent movie "Hachi," starring Richard Gere, about a similar, larger Japanese dog.

That tender story of love and loyalty opened my heart to Yoshi.

Kendra mentioned going East for a week and inquired if I might care for Yoshi. "Sure," I responded, the surprising words leaping from my mouth before I could think critically about it. Something other than merely myself seemed to be guiding me.

"Sometimes Yoshi and I just sit and gaze at each other—a transmission—like happens with my two-year-old friend. What better thing for an elder to do than care for younger and smaller beings and learn from them?"

On our first evening, I took him to Sebastopol's Enmanji Temple for their annual Japanese Obon dance. "May I pet him," kimono-dressed children politely asked. His double-coated fur is so thick and delightful; your fingers sink pleasurably into it. Yoshi radiates beauty with his fox-like appearance.

Yoshi provides me a dog's view of the world, as my two and a halfyear-old neighbor River provides me a child's view. Elders often do what the literature on aging calls "life review."

Some of us then do things that we have never done or not done in a long time—like have a dog and relate to two-year-olds.