Monday, January 28, 2013
Sometimes Kindness Doesn't Talk
The strangest part about this teaching he does (strange to me because I'm a writer and teacher and am constantly surrounded by words) is that Teddy never says a word about kindness. He simply does kindness.
Now, I realize not everyone is a dog-lover. Some of you may even have had scary encounters with dogs who snarl, bark and bite. I've had those too. But if you could meet my Teddy, he would change your mind. I know he would.
Because Teddy would meet you at the door each night after work, even if he was busy doing something else when you arrived home. He would lay his head in your lap just because he wants to. He would nap wherever you sit just so he can be close to you. He would get up early if you had to. He would stay up late if you did. He would walk or run with you, everyday, so you can stay healthy. He would be your friend for always.
And he does it all because he doesn't know any other way. Kindness is just what he does. Maybe the reason I learn so much from Teddy is because he doesn't talk; he doesn't use words. Maybe I'm surrounded by too many words sometimes, both those spoken and those written, so kindness speaks most to me when kindness just . . . does.