The other day I was out walking when a man stopped and asked if he could hug my dog.
Children often ask for pats and hugs, which Prince Finski tolerates quite well, considering he’s not been around young children for much of his life.
But a request for a hug from an adult was something else. I wasn’t sure quite how Finn would react, as dogs usually consider hugs a threat, especially from strangers.
It always seems churlish to knock back pat and stroke requests, so I apprehensively gave the go-ahead to the young fella, who was a bit jumpy and seemed like he needed a hug to calm himself down.
I was about to bend down and stroke Finn’s ear to distract him, but the young fella was already on his knees in full hug-mode, with his face buried in Finn’s fur as if he was his long-lost brother.
If Finn was five years younger, the stranger would have copped a warning nip on the ear, but Finn stood staring straight ahead with an expression that said “all right, if you must”.
I suppose that’s what old folks do — they just put up with the increasing indignities of life.
I must admit, Finn’s thick winter coat is an irresistible thing on a cold day.
When the hugging was done, the young bloke got up, thanked us, saying “that was wonderful”, and strode off into the mist.
I felt as though I’d just given him a weekend wellness break in a health spa.
As I watched him disappear into the grey, I felt good about contributing to the happiness of one person on that bleak, wintry day.
I don’t think Finn cared either way — pats and strokes and ear-tweaks are all part of the deal of living with humans. I do it all the time.
The surge of endorphins I get after a vigorous dog pat, or a stolen hug, is as good as that first glass of late-afternoon champagne by the fireside on a winter’s day. It’s also less expensive and probably healthier in the long term. I say hello to Finn in the morning with the same pat and hug routine, and I say goodnight to him the same way. The people around me don’t get the same treatment because human interactions are far more complicated. If I greeted the Chief Gardener the way I greet Finn, I’d get a slap.
I think dog-hugging has got something to do with wellness.
Wellness was not a concept when I grew up, but it’s a multi-billion-dollar industry today. Google ‘wellness’ and you’ll get at least seven definitions, from mental to physical and spiritual, and everything in between. Advice blogs and gurus say wellness is achieved through physical exercise, sleep, meditation and good nutrition. Oh, and signing up for our seven-week wellness course for the once-in-a lifetime price of $699.
Nothing about dog-hugs or increasing your own wellness by contributing to the wellness of others.
But feeling good is not a map or a seven-step program, it’s actually a series of little moments involving choices like that one on our wintry walk.
The young bloke chose to ask, and I chose to give — and so did Finn, in his own way.
Then we went on our way, and we felt better about the world.
Well, well — how simple life can be with a dog.