This week, as usual, there’s trouble around the world. Lots of it. Wars, fires, elections, viruses, famines, and more. So instead of crawling into a cave and hiding, which is what I sometimes feel like doing, I’ve been looking for little things that bring me joy. Reasons to be grateful.
Enter a dog named Rosie.
Early one morning this week, Rosie and I enjoyed a few quiet moments by the fire. I was drinking a cup of English breakfast tea. Rosie was sprawled on her side next to me. The muffled sound of my husband’s alarm clock reached us.
Rosie opened one eye. When she was certain she was hearing what she hoped she was hearing (Yes! He’ll be up soon!), she closed her eye again and began wagging her tail, whack, whack, whack against the sofa, while the rest of her appeared to be sound asleep.
“Are you thinking happy thoughts, Rosie?”
Whack, whack, whack. Then a wiggle into a position asking for a belly rub.
Another day, Rosie and I were walking in nearby Washington Park. It was cold enough for Rosie to wear her persimmon-colored puffer jacket, which she looks splendid in. Rosie was doing her usual Stranger Danger Dance, giving people a wide berth and avoiding eye contact—until we approached a woman wearing a puffer jacket much like Rosie’s.
“Oh! Don’t you look gorgeous! Aren’t you a pretty doggie!”
And wonder of wonders (as Amelia Theodore of Wren Island would say), Rosie stopped, looked right at the nice lady, and wagged her tail.
It’s such a little thing. My dog wagging her tail.
But the sad truth is that those tail wags have been a long time in coming. As a puppy, Rosie was found as a stray in rural Texas, with injuries suggesting she’d been used for wild boar hunting. She lived in three foster homes before we adopted her. She spent the first 48 hours in our home hiding in her crate and the first week with us avoiding eye contact. Within months of her adoption, she was diagnosed with a congenital heart defect—one that at two years old she’d already defied the odds of surviving. So, major surgery, a complicated recovery. And just when we’d all started feeling like our heads were above water, we lost Rosie’s best pal, Moki.
So every tail wag counts. Every tail wag is worth celebrating because it’s something we’ve longed for. Prayed for. Feared we might lose. Hoped for and waited for, again.
And now look what’s happening. Tail wags all over the place!
It’s a crazy world out there, my friend. Holding on to hope and celebrating the little things will get us through. What brings you joy? What are you holding out hope for? I’d love to hear about it.
(This post is adapted from a note I wrote subscribers in the winter of 2024. If you’d like to be the first to read more notes like these, subscribe here.)
