I was on the train today when a dog, sleek and silver as quicksilver, perhaps a Weimaraner, began to tremble with anticipation. His paws pattered a restless rhythm on the floor, and his thin, spiralling whine rose like a kettle just before it sings.
I leaned toward the owner and asked, “What’s he so excited about?” “The beach,” she smiled. “He knows whenever we take the train, it means sand and sea.”
In that moment, I caught his joy as if it were contagious, and I thought of the Hebrew word Firgun—the unselfish delight in another’s happiness. It struck me that this word, usually reserved for human circles, surely stretches to include the animal kingdom.
Konrad Lorenz once observed that “there is no faith which has never yet been broken, except that of a truly faithful dog.” Here was that faith transfigured into pure anticipation: the animal’s body alive with memory and desire, the train itself no longer iron and motion but a herald of crashing waves and salt-soaked freedom.
I realised that perhaps our hearts, too, are wired like this: to leap at certain signs, to tremble when a promise is near fulfilment. And in sharing the dog’s ecstasy, I was reminded that joy is never diminished by being passed along—it multiplies.
What's on the Dog's Mind; What's on Mine
What's on the Dog's Mind; What's on Mine
I was on the train today when a dog, sleek and silver as quicksilver, perhaps a Weimaraner, began to tremble with anticipation. His paws pattered a restless rhythm on the floor, and his thin, spiralling whine rose like a kettle just before it sings.
I leaned toward the owner and asked, “What’s he so excited about?”
“The beach,” she smiled. “He knows whenever we take the train, it means sand and sea.”
In that moment, I caught his joy as if it were contagious, and I thought of the Hebrew word Firgun—the unselfish delight in another’s happiness. It struck me that this word, usually reserved for human circles, surely stretches to include the animal kingdom.
Konrad Lorenz once observed that “there is no faith which has never yet been broken, except that of a truly faithful dog.” Here was that faith transfigured into pure anticipation: the animal’s body alive with memory and desire, the train itself no longer iron and motion but a herald of crashing waves and salt-soaked freedom.
I realised that perhaps our hearts, too, are wired like this: to leap at certain signs, to tremble when a promise is near fulfilment. And in sharing the dog’s ecstasy, I was reminded that joy is never diminished by being passed along—it multiplies.
Image by Copilot