When I was reaching for my shoes the other day, I saw the pair of Cole Haan calf-hair booties our dog had partially chewed. It simultaneously brought a tear to my eye and a smile to my face. That rascal!!

The memory is bittersweet because my husband and I had to say goodbye to Shepherd in early January, nearly 16 years after he joined our family. And what I wouldn’t give at this point to have him around to randomly chew on my valuables, dig in a house plant or snore under my desk while I write this.

It got me thinking: What is it about dogs that they can be such pistols and yet so utterly lovable and indispensable? I think the answer is, their admirable characteristics far outweigh the occasional (okay, even regular) frustrations.

Which leads me to three lessons from Shep. We would be well-served to observe and model them in our own lives.

First, pin your ears back and say you’re sorry. Shepherd was a cattle dog mix with ears that pointed straight toward the sky nearly every moment of every day of his life. Except when he got in trouble.

You knew he had done something wrong, even before laying eyes on the evidence, because he would sit as close to you as he could, pin his ears back and look up at you with pleading eyes. It was his way of saying “I’m sorry. Please forgive me.”

Imagine how much better our relationships — at home and at work — would be if we were quicker to apologize and really meant it, like Shep did. What if, at the first sign we messed up, we assumed a posture of apology, looked the person in the eye and said, “I’m sorry. Please forgive me.”

Did it mean he wouldn’t make another mistake? Heck no. But he would apologize again. Without fail, every time.

Dogs also provide us with perfect examples of what it’s like to take joy in the small things. Shep ate the same food twice a day every day and nothing else. (Truly, he had food allergies, so no table scraps for him!)

Still, he would start anticipating his evening meal an hour in advance, pacing back and forth between his food bowl and wherever you were sitting. When it was finally time to eat, he devoured his food as if it was a perfectly cooked, bacon-wrapped filet with a red-wine demi glaze. *Chef’s kiss*

How can we find a Shep-like appreciation in the routine and mundane? Well, we start by being more open to the possibility in our daily activities. For example, maybe you commute to work every day (dull!), but what if today is the day you learn something new from a podcast or hear your favorite song along the way?

For Shep, each meal was a feast and each walk along the same exact route was a new adventure.

The final lesson from Shep is, never miss a chance to show people you love them.

In his later years, Shep had some pretty rancid breath and goop would gather in his right eye. None of that fazed him though. If he thought you were giving him an opening for some love, he would come right up, bump into you (perhaps transferring some of the aforementioned goop) and give you a big, sloppy, old-man kiss.

What if we didn’t hesitate to show our affection for one another? I can’t tell you the number of times I’ve wanted to reach out with a loving word or gesture, but I’ve second-guessed myself. “What if they’re not a hugger?” or, “What if I make them uncomfortable?” Before I know it, I’ve talked myself out of letting them know I care.

I guess Shep showed me it’s better to pin my ears back and apologize for making things awkward than wonder if the people in my life know how important they are to me.

Okay pet lovers, help me out while I go grab a Kleenex. What other lessons could we learn from our pets?

Three life lessons from Shep

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