Dogs Celebrate Everything!
Dogs don’t wait for the big moments.
They don’t need a promotion, a milestone birthday, a vacation booked six months in advance, or a special occasion circled on the calendar. They celebrate simple, ordinary moments like it’s the headline event. And living with Mo and Lewie means you get a front-row seat to that philosophy.
Mo, celebrating being at the beach
When we walk in the door, it is a full celebration - like we’ve just returned from a heroic voyage, when really, we just went to the grocery store.
When we open the refrigerator, another celebration - but one that can be extremely optimistic or disappointing. The minute the fridge door is cracked, they both appear as if summoned, convinced that the fridge opening is a strong sign that something life-changing is about to happen.
When we wake up in the morning, Lewie is already waiting. He acts like it has been years since he last saw us. He stretches, yawns, and then launches into joy like he’s been counting the minutes until we returned to consciousness. He also knows that we feed him when we wake up – so he may have a secondary reason for celebrating.
“Good morning,” his whole body says. “You’re back. The day can begin. Let’s eat!”
Lewie, getting a morning hug
When we say the word “park,” it’s a celebration. When we grab the leashes, tails start wagging frantically. When we pull into the parking lot, it’s hard to keep them in the car until the door is completely opened – they are so excited just to be out in the world.
Sometimes, Mo and Lewie celebrate each other. If one has been at daycare and the other hasn’t, they welcome each other with sniffs, they circle, they wag like they’re exchanging stories.
And then there’s the wood stove.
Lewie has a special kind of joy reserved for when Ron makes a fire. The second Ron starts building the fire, Lewie is at his side, sometimes giving Ron kisses as his special thank you. He positions himself like he’s won a prize as the heat envelopes him. He lets out the kind of satisfied sigh that makes you think, “Comfort is not complicated.”
Watching them do this over and over has made me wonder why we ration our celebrations. Somewhere along the way, it seems many of us start acting like joy is something you need to earn or something you should justify. We save it for the big things. We dismiss the little things. We rush past the ordinary, as if it doesn’t count. But to a dog, the ordinary is the whole point.
You’re home. That counts.
We’re together. That counts.
There’s warmth. That counts.
We’re going outside. That counts.
Dogs don’t require perfection before they let themselves feel good. They don’t delay joy until every box is checked. They don’t say, “I’ll be happy once I lose the weight, once the weather improves, once life calms down.” They take the good the moment it shows up.
I know that we can’t live like dogs. We have responsibilities, anxieties, calendars, and brains that like to replay everything we’ve ever said wrong - but I do think there’s something worth copying from them.
Maybe the lesson isn’t “celebrate everything” in a forced, performative way. Maybe it’s simpler: notice what’s good while it’s happening.
Notice when someone walks through the door.
Notice when you sit down with a hot cup of coffee.
Notice the warmth of your house.
Notice the ridiculous gift of being alive on a random Tuesday.
Mo and Lewie don’t need a reason. They just need the moment. And when you live with that kind of joy long enough, it starts to rub off - kind of like with this truckload of labs that came to a photoshoot!