Dogs live in the moment. When they're happy, they're totally happy. Tomorrow doesn't worry them.
Bao doesn't worry about his defective mitral valve. It doesn't hurt, and it doesn't affect his life. So as far as he's concerned, it's not a problem. He rolls over on his back so that the ceiling fan can blow cool air on his tummy, and he's a happy camper, living in the here and now.
Of course, I worry enough for both of us.
Buddhism teaches us to live in the moment, to enjoy the moment. No regrets, and no worries. Just here and now. Because when you stop to think about it, here and now is all we've got.
I'm trying not to worry so much.
We're in Mexico right now, escaping from the triple-digit, Scottsdale heat. There must be a storm somewhere, because it's overcast and there's a big surf pounding in. Bao loves it here. He loves sitting on the banquette and watching people come and go on the beach. He loves walking on the expanse of hard sand at low tide. He's sleeping at my feet as I write this, his dear, soft little muzzle nestled against my instep.
He's happy. I'm happy.
Here and now is good.