I just returned from 3 days alone at the beach on the northern coast of Sao Paulo state in Brazil (pictures here).  It was just the break from the city, and my life that I needed to “let the mud settle” as they say.  No TV, no radio, no phone – only me and some Eckhart Tolle meditations to keep me company.

Until my last day at the beach.  I settled into my beach chair and umbrella on the beautiful and as yet uncrowded, space on the beach.  I was listening to a meditation, when suddenly I felt something licking my hand. Startled, I opened my eyes and saw a dog gently lick my hand, and then lay down in the shade created by my umbrella.  It was as if he was asking my permission to share my shade.  At first unsettled, I soon realized that he was hurting nothing by laying there, so I let him share my space with me.

He laid there with me all day, sleeping. He was not a cute pooch by any means – mangy and not terribly skinny but not cute either. He seemed exhausted, and didn’t even stir when I carefully got up to go into the ocean for a short swim.  Keeping an eye on him while I was in the water, I secretly hoped he would not leave because I was not there, and that no one would bother him there (stray dogs are not treated very kindly here, in general).

When I became hungry in the afternoon I got up to go to the beach kiosk to get something to eat, and bought both of us hot dogs and a fried pastel with cheese to share.  When I told the woman at the kiosk that I was taking one of the hot dogs back for him, at first she laughed at me, and then she asked me if I thought he’d want mustard and ketchup on his.  We decided that plain was probably better, and she ended up bringing a glass of water back for him to my spot because I couldn’t carry it all myself.

It turns out that he was hungry, but much thirstier.  After I made 2 more trips back to refill his water glass, he and I were both finally able to relax again.  He very carefully took each bite I offered him (rather than let his food land in the sand). He seemed much more alert then, after eating and drinking. 

Such a gentle creature; I gently pet his head and told him he was a good boy.

By this time, we were becoming something of a spectacle.  The guy from the kiosk where I had purchased the food came over to ask me if I needed anything else, and I asked for 1 more cup of water for my dog friend.   When he returned a few minutes later, he carried with him a bowl of water AND a whole tin bowl of food with beans, rice, and chicken and set it down in front of the dog, who began to gingerly eat it.  I thanked him and he told me that he knew this dog and he used to be bigger and beautiful before his life on the street.  Then a nearby family on the beach sent over their leftovers for the dog to eat as well.

By this time, I was crying.  Here, I was experiencing something that I had yet to experience in my time here in Brazil – the kindness of strangers.  In that moment I realized that I had somehow lost my faith in humanity since moving here and that the dog was my spiritual teacher, showing me the potential goodness of humans.  I happened to have my Animal Medicine cards with me, and I looked up the meaning of dog medicine.  The power of dog medicine is to give, despite the lack of returned kindness or response from others. According to the text, even when beaten or mis-treated, the dog returns, only seeking to serve and to be loved.  It does this not out of stupidity, but from a deep and compassionate understanding of human shortcomings.

Ahhh…. that seemed to be MY lesson. Compassion and understanding toward human shortcomings.  That has been in short supply for me lately, and I miss it. 

So, as it turns out, the dog gave more to me than I to him.  By taking the risk to reach out to me, he re-ignited other people's generosity, as well as my own.  At the end of the day, apparently refreshed and rested, the dog arose, stretched and with one last look at me, trotted off down the beach.