I confess, I am the quintessential Type A personality. I like to work, have strong perfectionist tendencies, and possess impeccable planning skills (I love making lists and checking them off!). So, before I welcomed home my first dog, Cyrus, I made sure I had all of the essentials in place (or so I thought!). I had done all the research, talked to dog guardians that I knew and trusted, and scheduled a new vet appointment (yes, really). I had checked everything off my list aside from “pick up dog.” 

Despite all of my planning, however, I was not prepared for one of the greatest lessons Cyrus taught me – the real art of slowing down. To be clear, when I brought Cyrus home, I was 36, had been practicing yoga for fourteen years, and had spent several summers co-teaching a mindfulness camp for adolescents. My slowing-down toolbox was neither empty nor rusty. Yet, caring for another being that fully, unapologetically, and so beautifully always lived in the moment…well, that was a whole new perspective on slowing down.

So, what does the real art of slowing down involve, according to our canine companions? 

Stopping and Smelling the Roses (or Anything at All!)

Cyrus was a Beagle, so I expected lots (and lots) of sniffing. I also expected walks to be at my pace, structured, and to follow a regular route. While I was right in his wanting to sniff everything, I was quite naive in understanding how dogs perceive the world. Walks with Cyrus quickly tested my patience. We had mastered loose leash walking, turning on cue, and had a daily exercise routine; yet, I still found walks frustrating. His desire (OK, need) to sniff was at odds with my desire to keep moving. (Didn’t he know I had things to do and couldn’t stop to sniff all day?!)

I don’t remember when or how I first stumbled upon the concept of a ‘sniff walk’. I also don’t remember when or why I finally decided to try one. However, I do remember thinking, “Twenty minutes of letting his nose lead the way is going to test my patience.” To the contrary, ‘sniff walks’ reminded me of the nature-based mindfulness activities I taught middle schoolers. Like with any practice, it took time to flex my ‘sniff walk’ muscles. Once I did, I found myself returning from each walk with the same sense of calm and contentment as my pup. 

Finding Joy in the Little Things

The more time we spent together, the more I found myself smiling at Cyrus’s excitement over even the smallest things – an ice cube sliding across the floor, a new stick, the car door opening to go for a ride, a new toy. I can’t explain it, but there was something about his pure, unbridled zest for life that I found contagious. Don’t you find yourself with a big grin on your face when you watch someone (or a dog) having a good time? 

Cyrus’s genuine enjoyment in the most mundane activities reminded me of the importance of play. There is a plethora of research out there on the benefits of play – social-emotional, cognitive, physical – for humans of all ages. Like most adults, I wasn’t good at making time for play. Having a dog certainly didn’t make for additional free time, though it did come with an urge to pause, play, and find joy in the little things with him. The benefits of caving to that urge – mutual well-being, social bonding, and a ton of fun.

Resting with Purpose 

Early on, I was struck by how in-tune Cyrus was with his needs (my being in-tune with his needs is another story). What struck me most was his ability to know when to stop, rest, and recharge. On a walk or hike, he’d signal “all done” by simply turning himself around, or he’d signal “need a break” by sitting on top of my feet. At home, he’d curl up in his donut bed or stretch out on the couch, usually letting out a big sigh.

How Cyrus rested was surprisingly fascinating. It seemed so intuitive and purposeful; there was no pushing through. How long he would sit on my feet or snooze in one of his favorite spots was dependent on the rest he needed. There was no alarm setting, no worrying about the next task, no guilt over slowing down. Then he was ready to go again. 

For Cyrus, rest was neither planned nor calculated; it was natural, necessary, and just happened. Once upon a time, that had been true for me too. Then, life just seemed to take over. I never regret the choice to rest in the truest sense when I do (yes, positive reinforcement in action!), though I’m willing to admit this element of the art of slowing down often feels most at odds with my nagging desire to keep checking things off that list. 

Living in the Moment

Being human is hard; life is complicated. The decision to welcome home a canine companion can further complicate it in many ways. Yet, it can also simplify it in many ways. 

Dogs don’t dwell on yesterday or worry about tomorrow. They don’t make to-do lists and check things off as they go. They don’t fixate on how “just right” they did (or didn’t) do something. They are fully, unapologetically, and so beautifully living in the moment; it’s one of their many superpowers, and a reminder to us humans that sometimes it’s enough to just be. 

It’s never too late to start practicing the real art of slowing down. Go on, give it a try – stop and smell the roses, find joy in the little things, and rest with purpose. You and your dog will both be thankful you did.