Last week on The Morning Pages, I described a particularly dark period having lost sight of who I was, believing my children would receive greater value from my death benefit than having me as their father. That was just 9 years ago. I didn’t “snap out of it” like my mother suggested, rather it was a few weeks where I didn’t want to get out of bed. But Skittles had different plans. Skittles was and still is, my 16-pound, Yorki-Poo that sleeps curled up by my side every night, well except for one. He claimed he was out with the guys; but I digress.
Sleeping life away as a reaction to depression is a human malady – Skittles wanted to live, run, sniff, play, and pee. After a couple weeks he put his paw down and demanded to be heard. Like any action hero approaching his breaking point, he rose, in slow-motion of course, planting his paws firmly against the 500-thread count comforter, effortlessly moving to the top of the bed, laid down, positioned his nose directly against mine and glared at me. I mean stared directly into my eyes for the longest time. Skittles wasn’t fuckin around.
He'd never done this before. He seemed determined to have a staring contest and I was determined not to blink first. He was relentless but I refused to cave. Sure, I was out of shape for this task of connection. Connection is the very thing I avoided my entire life. Connection with the world, with people, with myself. It alluded me. I wore disconnection as a badge of honor. For example: I went to a prestigious all-boys private school in New York. We lived at the school, all one hundred sixty-seven of us. It's the type of school where friendships are forged for life. After graduation… I never spoke to those boys again. Today, fifty-one years later, I still haven’t.
As I was saying… Skittles and I were nose-to-nose in an intense stare-down. After 30 seconds or so I noticed my enemy was softening. His eyes, once hard, black as night and two dimensional began to transform into softer, almost transparent passageways of emotion. A little longer into the visual clash of wills… another shift. A disarming of sorts. But was it me that was being disarmed? I was flooded with bizarre feelings. My willpower faded, I found my canine combatants’ eyes to be beautiful, inviting, as if they were communicating with me, as if they were saying… I love you. I did everything I could to strengthen my resolve, but… I literally got lost in those beautiful, black eyes. I felt myself falling, falling in love with a sixteen-pound dog.
I hopped out of bed because, well… enough was enough of the dog thing. Then I realized something was missing… the dark shadow of depression and apathy. Wait a sec I thought, what was I depressed about? Wasn’t I intentionally avoiding life? Weird… So, I washed the car, did some laundry, got a haircut, and bought some Italian delicacies as a treat for my palette. It was a good day. The first in a long time.
The following morning, I glanced at Skittles wondering if we could recreate a similar feeling. He looked at me as if to say, “You ready for round deux?” That’s right, deux, he’s part poodle remember? I nodded yes, he crawled up my side, snout-to-nose, we stared at each other for a while, maybe 30-40 seconds then feeling inexplicably close to him again, I love you popped out of my mouth. Simultaneously his ears perked up. I said it another five or six times and each time I said I love you, his ears perked up as if he understood what I was saying. Maybe he was saying I love you too, in dog-ear talk.
I didn’t tell anyone about my canine crush for fear of being banished from the sanity kingdom, but I did continue my morning love session with Skittles for about a week until my deeply depressive state had completely lifted. Can dogs perceive human emotion? Yes. Can a dog tell if a human is sick or in distress? Yes. Do I think Skittles knew I was in a bad way and wanted to help? Yes. Do I think looking into my dog’s eyes elevated my mood? I don’t think it, I know it to be true.
* If you stare into the eyes of your dog for more than 45 seconds your brain, and the brain of your dog becomes flooded with Oxytocin. Commonly known as the love hormone. Thus, the sensation of falling in love with my dog. I didn’t mention this but, don’t judge me… the second day I stared at Skittles to see if the phenomenon I had felt before was real and possibly repeatable, I had a moment where I wanted to kiss him. Kiss him, full on. The identical feeling when looking into the eyes of a woman I deeply loved.
There have been numerous studies proving the efficacy of this phenomenon using Functional MRI (fMRI) technology as well as other testing procedures. Prof. Outi Vianio, of the University of Helsinki has published numerous studies on the topic as well as well as Miho Nagasawa of Azabu University in Japan.
I took your advice staring into the yellow eyes of my neighbor’s Persian cat (who by the way happens to be possessed by evil spirits.) Needless to say it was quite unnerving as I slinked away, tail between my legs, impressed, and shamed by the experience.
Dogs are the best therapist, nurse, guardian combo on earth.