Zen and the Art of Dog Maintenance

My new dog Buck is into leather. Soft, supple, expensive leather, smooth or suede. He has eaten a very expensive teal Arche shoe, a green sandal, part of a pair of brown sandals, which I was able to save by snipping off the back straps, an orange handbag I bought in Barcelona, and yesterday, a handbag that belonged to my mother. Buck has also nibbled on other shoes but not quite destroyed them. My neighbor says hot sauce is the way to prevent this from happening. My husband says he must be trained but we are at a loss as to how to do it. I am inclined to take the Zen approach.

I've been going to yoga a lot. Chronic illness makes me super inflexible. I can't be flat on my back without my arms popping up from the floor. My balance is precarious and when I have to stand up from a seated position, I look and feel like a very old person. Muscle weakness rounds off the trilogy. I do what I can and feel better for it. 

Yoga emphasizes breathing and emptying the mind of details that keep you in a constant whir. My mind is particularly active--it works so much better than my body--so shutting it down requires effort. The breath can help the process. I don't meditate, because I don't know how, but I am capable of thinking of nothing for short periods of time. I give the credit for this to my teachers, who have a way of soothing and calming the spirit. 

I'm not a Buddhist by any means. When I use the word "zen," I'm using it in the sense of a quiet way of living. Living in the Untied States, or many countries for that matter, challenges the concept of zenishness at all turns, at least my concept. I don't pretend to live the lifestyle, but it has its benefits.

Anxiety can be treated with drugs, but quieting the mind through breathing can have a faster and sometimes better effect. I admit, when I came home from yoga yesterday, relaxed and peaceful, only to find that Buck had chewed my mother's handbag, I became enraged. I screamed at him and put him in my bedroom as punishment. It was not my finest moment. I was more upset than usual because my mother died in 1985 and I have very few of her things. I was sad and mad.


I fully admit to a shoe and handbag weakness. I have a ridiculously large collection of shoes in every color, with handbags to coordinate. I recently put a moratorium on shoe purchases, although the Aerosoles store right next to yoga is having a sale and I went in yesterday right after yoga and right before coming home to the eaten handbag. How can I blame Buck for consuming tasty bits of leather when I'm obsessed with consuming shoes? How many shoes do I need?

What I've decided to do is keep my shoes and handbags in a safe place at all times. We will buy Buck leather chews to keep him happy. Marty will try to train him and maybe we'll even hot sauce all the leather. I will not mourn for leather lost. I will be philosophical about future leather lost. I will breathe deeply and not think or, only think about the important things in life.