Dog is God Spelled Backwards

Yesterday was the strangest day. It started with the prologue to a book I was reading. In it was a poem about the Alaskan Inuits that said...in the beginning of time, when there was no language, people could become animals and animals could become people whenever they wished. Words can bring anything into being, even if those words are just thoughts. Be mindful. Words are powerful and sacred. It hit home. I have been living with very few words for the last few weeks and, in a sense, I do feel reduced to the level of an animal dependent on others to help me get by in this foreign land. Lately, I have wished for words to bring new things into being and have become more aware that they can be both destructive and, ultimately, healing.

A short time after reading that poem, I set off with my friend on a hike for the artisans market across town. A young stray dog started to follow us when we walked through the crowded mercado. Not wanting to encourage her away from home, I didn't acknowledge her but she stayed in my shadow anyway. We walked for a long time, taking a new direction with vague maps, and it wasn't long before the road we were on became an alley which then became a narrow stone path that twisted and branched between buildings. And through all of this, "our dog" remained with us. Truthfully, by that time I was glad for her company. It felt a little safer with a nice big dog at my heels walking those strange, scary footpaths through the barrios.

We had been hiking for more than an hour when what we were walking on wasn't even a path anymore. It had morphed into a series of strategically placed stones leading straight up for a couple of city blocks. Knowing the main road was up there and realizing we could never find our way through the labrynth we had just passed through, we pressed on up the hill. Even the dog climbed with us, pulling herself up stone by stone where it got too steep. When I was three-quarters of the way up, the dog had already made it to the top and disappeared over the ridge. We were panting and exhausted at that point, so my friend and I sat on the stones to rest awhile. Several minutes passed and I remarked to my friend that the dog was finally gone. And just after saying that, I looked up and saw her peek down over the edge. She barked a couple of times and slowly began to make her way back down to us. When she got to where we were sitting, she softly took my wrist in her mouth and began tugging me up toward the top! How strange that was; in this country where I feel so lost and unable to communicate here comes a dog who can guide me to where I need to be without a word at all.

Once we found the main highway, we rewarded our dog (now "Daisy) with water (which she would only drink straight from the bottle) and a bag of Cheetos from the convenience store (which she wolfed down in one huge gulp). She stayed with us all the way to the artisans market, dutifully shopped alongside us in the market, and slept at the door of the cafe where we had lunch. After about 3 hours, we finally found familiar roads we knew led back to where we live and, without even a wag of her tail, Daisy disappeared back into a crowd of people when we crossed a busy street.

Today I am left wondering, who was that playful, loving, and caring spirit that came to guide us yesterday? Maybe someday, when I no longer look through the glass darkly, I will meet her again. And when I do, I won't be surprised if I find out that she wasn't even a dog at all but a shape-shifter sent straight from heaven to bring us home.