I just came back from the grocery store; it's my turn to prepare tomorrow's family dinner. While I was walking home, there were ten pigeons cooing on top of a light pole and multitudes of people buzzing around in there own little bubbles of transportation both on the ground and in the air. While strolling along, I was reading an article about the addictive system when I came to the following paragraph, "Generally speaking, there is a lack of true intimacy in the life of an addict. This is a lack of ability to share deeply felt spiritual and emotional experiences with another person. This intimacy has nothing to do with sex. A key element in the recovery process will be for the addict to learn to develop appropriately intimate (ie., emotionally, not sexually, intimate) relationships with others." As I was pondering this, a chocolate Labrador ran-up to me and started sniffing me and the groceries. I thought about my first dog and how intimate she had been with me. My mother use to tell me the story about when I was approximately one year old, the dog developed welts along her back bone. She took the dog to a vet, but there were no fleas or anything of that sort. Then one night as she passed by the room I was in, she heard the dog faintly whimpering. She looked-in and found me teething along her backbone. The dog simply stayed still suffering in pain allowing me to ease my own pain. We had an emotional attachment, and she could sence all my feelings, including my sufferings. She always cheered me up, urged me to stay active, and watched over me. I could share anything with her, and never ber criticized.
She gave her life protecting me from an attacking German Shepherd when I was about six or seven years old.
I still miss her. She was a great example of love and sacrifice. You would think if a 15-pound Boston Terrier was capable of such greatness, that we humans should be capable of much more. As my friend Dennis oftens says, "Nuff said." 
Tags: Intimacy Addiction Preoccupation Ritualization Compulsive Behavior Pai