You Are Your Own Pet

I like to spend a lot of time imagining myself as a golden retriever. My long, pink, goofy tongue lolling out the side of my face as I stick my head out the car window — struggling to breathe and loving it. The same tongue flopping around as I chase my grinning child-master around a field of flowers, each bulb alive with a unique, deep, thrilling scent that my actual fragile human brain would break to experience. My tongue stuck to the hardwood floor as I nap on my plush bed in the living room near the feet of my joyful upper-middle-class family, somewhere temperate with endless squirrels to chase.

This started all innocent and without intent — as I’ve written here before, my first word was “dog” and I’ve always had an affinity for them. There’s a very strong possibility that I was a dog in my most recent past life. Or many of my past lives. Maybe I was a dog on repeat for the last few centuries. If it’s something I’m given a choice on when I die this time, I’ll choose to come back as a dog again. I won’t say dogs are my favourite animals, but of the creatures I’ve been able to pet, they’re the best. I love bears too but they’re much harder to snuggle.

These imaginings have grown from a pleasant and relaxing daydream, though, into a useful thought experiment that shifts my perspective and encourages positive change. Now I pretend that I’m my own golden retriever. Let me explain: