Story 5: Meditation Buddy

After taking care of Laika for a few years, I started to discover the joys of meditation for helping to calm my mind and ease the anxiety of ruminations that had been crippling me at various points in time. This is a practice that has continued and deepened over the years, to the point where I meditate and/or chant twice a day (morning and night). While Laika did not particularly care about the mechanics of my practice, she definitely used the time to lay close to me and sleep loudly (especially in the past few years). I think that my calm breathing was somewhat soothing for both of us. I have a theory that meditating with at least one other breathing body in the room is more beneficial than sitting alone. Maybe this is why it seemed mutually beneficial.

Before I moved into the new house last month, I would occasionally feel Laika's body close to mine when I was sitting on my cushion, trying to follow my breath. At first this could be a distraction, especially when she would kick me or push against me really hard. But, over time, this was very comforting and became a way to connect on a different level. I am not sure if this is a practice that is encouraged by meditation teachers, but the simple act of sitting in the same room close to Laika while only breathing became very soothing to me. It was a way to be together without thoughts or distractions getting in the way. Listening to, but not processing, Laika's metered, rumbling snore was also a peaceful complement to the sometimes chaotic thoughts that were rising and falling in my mind.

As already mentioned, Laika's attendance in my meditation sessions was sometimes dictated by the Breakfast Morning Show. Her love and single-minded devotion to peanut butter would certainly put many faithful religious practitioners to shame. But...this seemed to change over the past few weeks of Laika's life. I began doing morning meditations outside in the backyard. On more than a few occasions, she pushed the back door open to be closer to me. She would also wander after from her regularly scheduled morning program to come upstairs to my room if I was in mid-meditation. She would even push open the door and press-up against my cushion as she laid-down, or crawl on the bed, so she would be level with my breath.

The last weekend we spent together, she made it a point to sit directly in front of me while I meditated for over half an hour in the backyard. She was so calm and rarely wanted to me that close to me for the entire duration. This simple act made me feel extremely peaceful, and made the whole day seem to glow with peace and tranquility. I have honestly never felt that way for such a long period of time. It seemed like she knew that her presence and closeness during this meditation was necessary to finally be at peace.

This was echoed on our last morning spent together. Laika had been sleeping and laying under the dining room table for much of the night without moving. However, when I was getting ready to meditate in my room, I heard her heavy footsteps coming up the stairs. I was completely surprised that she had gathered the energy to come to see me, but was also getting the idea that this would be some of our last moments spent at home together. She laid in the hallway outside of my door, so I moved my cushion next to her and sat down for my meditation. Laika's eyes were still tired, but I could feel that she was happy to have me by her side. Her body was failing and swelling, but she still had her breath. So, we sat and breathed together, like we had many times before. Again, I felt at peace. It was hard to know that this would be our last morning together, but we shared the one thing that makes living possible...our breath.

All of these calm moments over the years meant so much. But now, my breathing is alone in the room, while I sit in front of my small memorial to Laika in my room, bathed in the light of a glowing, flickering memorial candle. Inhaling and exhaling, I am now finding a different peace in this practice; keeping her memory and spirit alive in each breath.