Year of the Dog

Summary

The author, Dennett, aspires to embrace a life of leisure and purpose akin to that of their dog, characterized by rest, play, and the absence of unnecessary burdens.

Abstract

In the reflective piece titled "Year of the Dog," Dennett articulates a desire to redefine their purpose in life after years of labor and unfulfilled dreams. Drawing inspiration from their dog's lifestyle, they seek to prioritize rest when needed, enjoyment without concern for appearances, and the simple pleasures of living in the moment. Dennett longs for a life where work is replaced by play, where the joy of existence is the primary goal, and where the rituals of daily life are dictated by natural rhythms rather than societal expectations. The author acknowledges the possibility, though not yet probability, of achieving this lifestyle at their current age and is determined to embrace moments of carefreeness, aspiring to live without the interruptions and hesitations that punctuate a working life.

Opinions

Dennett values the simplicity and contentment of a dog's life, seeing it as a model for human living.
The author expresses a sense of fatigue from years of relentless work, especially during challenging times such as the pandemic.
There is a clear desire to shift from a joyless work ethic to a life filled with love, joy, and play.
Dennett emphasizes the importance of claiming personal space and time, much like a dog would.
The piece conveys a yearning for freedom from societal pressures and the pursuit of happiness on one's own terms.
The author sees their current age as an opportunity to make this desired lifestyle a reality, despite it not being the norm.
Dennett appreciates the small, unexpected joys in life, akin to a dog's delight in simple treats and activities.

Reclaiming leisure

This is the purpose I want — to rest when I’m tired, to not worry about bedhead or what covers my body, to luxuriate in a long body stretch, to not do what I don’t want to do.

I want to be my dog.

Yes, after 66 years of struggle and unmet goals and destroyed dreams, my purpose is to live like my dog.

Eat when I’m hungry; sleep when I’m tired and for as long as I wish; ask for what I need and want and accept that I won’t always get what I think I need and want; be grateful for unexpected treats; take long walks; nap in the sun; growl to defend my territory; know my limits; claim my spot in the bed and on the sofa; dance in joy when someone I love comes home; chase squirrels — well, I won’t chase squirrels but I will photograph them.

I don’t want to work. I want to play.

I worked for too many years, for too many hours in every year. I worked when others didn’t and should have. I worked when I shouldn’t have but had to. I worked doing what gave me little joy because I believed that’s what work was — joyless, necessary, weighty. I worked during sorrow and a pandemic. I worked for those who didn’t appreciate or value my time, especially during sorrow and a pandemic.

I want the profession of my dog — to love, be loved, defend, give joy, allow happiness, play alone or with others, to just be.

I am at an age when this is possible, not probable yet, but possible. I lean on that possibility.

Play is a word I know now. I find it in the shadows and secret nooks and take it out for short periods of carefreeness.

But, I don’t want periods — no stops.

I don’t want commas — no hesitations.

I want exclamation points and question marks and lots of ellipses . . .

I want to live like my dog.

And, this piece started here:

Wednesday Prompt / Having Purpose

Year of the Dog

Reclaiming leisure

Weekly Prompt: 28-31.12

Last few days of reflection of 2020