Zen beagle

Do creatures who live together begin adapting each other's personality traits, even when they aren't the same species?

Last week, two of my conference friends, Wild Hair and Peace-loving Feminist, came to town for a reading. They live in the midwest, and this was the only second time they've been to Snowstorm City. It's always great to see conference friends outside the hectic schedule of a conference: we enjoyed a leisurely meal with Mentor Poet, without any rushing to get back for a plenary speaker. And they brought their dog, Female Beagle Who Has a Male Name, who has been their companion for as long as I've known them.

Beagle is an old dog now so when Peace-loving Feminist and I took her to Pretty Colour Lakes for the afternoon, we brought a dog stroller. I'd never even heard of a dog stroller before, but it turned out to be similar to the stroller I brought to the lakes when my kids were little. I quickly fell right back into stroller rhythm, walking briskly along the cedar-lined paths and finding places where we could stop to sit on a bench and let Beagle out to sniff the ground. I remembered, too, how handy it was to use a stroller to carry stuff: we piled bottles of water and a bag of cherries in the basket.

Peace-loving Feminist and Wild Hair are both calm, centered people who incorporate such things as meditation into their daily lives. And Beagle seemed to have that same personality. In the stroller, resting her weary old legs, she seemed content to look out at the world with bright eyes, perfectly happy and at peace. Outside the stroller, she meandered along the water's edge while Peace-loving Feminist and I talked. It was a hot day, but we stayed in the shade of the cedar trees, looking out across the blue-green waters as we caught up on all that has happened in our lives over the last few months. The lazy afternoon melted away before we even realized what was happening, and soon it was time for the three of us to make our way back to the car.