Daisy

January 2, 2019

A friendly, affectionate goofball.

This is how my friends Jim and Linda describe their two-year-old dog, a fun-loving Chinook named Daisy. I’ve met Daisy several times before at her Sacramento home, and she always makes me laugh with her zany antics.

During this visit over the New Year’s holiday Daisy’s frolicking made me somewhat envious of her joie de vivre. When I was young I was more cheerful than I am now, and while I still strive to be upbeat most of the time, I’ve noticed within myself a creeping tendency toward being more of a curmudgeon. So I’ve decided that I need to be more like Daisy. I now have a dog as a role model.

Daisy’s dad Jim has been a friend since I was 17, so he knows me well. I asked him to compare my personality with that of Daisy. He laughed, then said, “You’re a little more cynical now than you used to be. Your optimism is more controlled than Daisy’s, and you don’t tend to jump on people or slobber on them or seek as much attention as she does. She’s pure positivity.” Linda added, “Daisy is pure unbridled joy.”

OK, maybe I’m a bit more complicated than my new role model. I wish I could radiate happiness all the time like she does, but I don’t. I’m not 17 anymore. But when I was 18, a high school teacher wrote in my yearbook: Illigitimus non carborundum (Don’t let the bastards grind you down). I think he saw me as a happy go lucky spirit, and as I graduated from Acalanes High School into the wider world he hoped that I wouldn’t lose my optimism. Bob Mehus was a very good teacher, and I’ve never forgotten those words of encouragement. So I still aspire to be the positive person that Mr. Mehus and Jim knew half a century ago.

I suspect that our essential nature is more like that of a child or a puppy than it is to be negative or fearful. In other words, I don’t believe in original sin, but rather I believe in original joy. Yet somewhere along the way we lose our innocence and replace it with selfishness, and we forget the pleasure of connecting with others. In effect, we forget that we have a soul, and instead we identify with our temporary personality and its body and their wants and needs.

And that’s OK – up to a point. But it’s so much more rewarding to remember who we really are, and get in touch with our inner Daisy.

So in 2019 I hope to frolic, laugh, and wag my tail more. And if you should see me jumping on people and slobbering all over them, maybe you’ll understand that I’m only following my canine guru.