CHAPTER 1

"Until one has loved an animal, a part of one'ssoul remains unawakened." -- Anatole France

This story is about a very special part of my spiritual journey,and how I walked it accompanied by a beautiful and loveabledog named Rusty.

It all began when I was living with my Dad, AlexanderBoynton, in Brooklyn, N.Y.

One day I returned home from New York City and wassurprised to find a cute and friendly dog in the yard. Hehad been given to Dad by my niece Chantal and her motherbecause they were about to move into an apartment complexthat had a 'no pets allowed' policy. Dad said that a womanwho lived across the street was going to take him -- after shehad a fence built.

Twelve joyful years later, Rusty was still with us.

This loving, funny, magical and playful dog earned nicknameslike "My Sweet Puppito," "My Hunk of Burnin' Furry Love"(thanks Elvis), "The Puppy Dog Love of My Life" and myfavorite: "God's Puppy." I used to say his name was "RustipherPierre – Rusty, for short."

He loved to cuddle. He would also walk up to me and simplylean against my leg. One of his favorite love moves was towalk over to you while you were seated and walk one waywhile rubbing against your legs, then turn around and walkback the other way - repeating this gesture. I soon decidedthat this was his way of giving me hugs.

There is a driveway between Dad's house and the next doorneighbor's. At the front of it is a locked gate. The side dooron our house faces the side door of theirs. Dad didn't see anyreason to keep this door locked during the daytime. Rustywould simply let himself out and scratch on the door whenhe wanted to come back inside.

He had an energetic fan club of little children. Every day, ontheir way home from school, they would loudly call his name.Then he would let himself out and run to the gate to greetthem. They all seemed to be talking to him at once, as theypet him through the gate.

This was a daily routine.

All of the neighbors adored him. One of them volunteered towalk him and another would bring him food. Dad, of course,kept him well fed with dog food as well as food from thedinner table.

Even after one of the neighbors moved away, he would comeback to visit his family and still take time to walk Rusty.

I loved to take him for long walks. When we got home hewould try to stay out longer by swinging me around so thatwe could walk some more. Many times, during these walks,people would say that he looked like a lion. Many times hedid - especially when the hair around his neck grew long andactually looked like a lion's mane.

At night Rusty would sleep in the bedroom with me. When Iwent away, he would sleep in Dad's room. I'm a professionalsinger and sometimes I'd go on extended tours out of thecountry. Whether I was returning from the airport or fromthe local subway, I would always look for Rusty at the frontgate before entering the house. We'd say our hellos throughthe gate and then I would go into the house while he barkedloudly until I let him in -- then there would be doggie kissesand yes, Rusty style hugs.

He had such a joyful nature and especially seemed to loveplaying and spending time with boys of all ages. One day Isaw him on his hind legs and he appeared to be boxing withmy brother Sean. Yes, it was definitely a boy thing! That wasfor the boys; cuddles were for the girls.

Dad had retired many years before Rusty's arrival, so thetwo of them were able to spend a lot of time together. Mystepmother passed away many years earlier; since this is atwo family home and the neighbors on the block adored him,Dad was never alone.

There was always a recliner in the front parlor. When one woreout, a replacement was quickly found. Dad would sit on it,either watching television or reading a newspaper with Rustylying beside him. They started out the day watching "ThePrice is Right" and ended it watching "Wheel of Fortune."When Dad went outside, so did Rusty. When Dad walked tothe front of the driveway, so did his sidekick.

I especially cherish two pictures I took of them. In the firstone they're standing at the front gate looking out at the streetwhile Dad is locking the gate for the night. Then I took thesecond picture after the two of them turned around andwalked, side by side, back down the driveway. Dad may haveonly taken three minutes to do this but Rusty was still goingto accompany him. For me, those two pictures always sumup Rusty's relationship with Dad.

One of Rusty's best friends was my nephew, Gerald. Hevisited from California a few times a year. When he firstarrived at the house, Rusty would jump up and down loudlybarking. Gerald once said "he reminds me of a kid." I felt thatway too. It was as if he were my little brother or my child.When I came home with packages, he would jump up onthe sofa and poke his nose through them to see if there wasanything for him. At those times, the "like a kid" opinionreally made sense.

CHAPTER 2

"Animals share with us the privilege ofhaving a soul."-- Pythagoras

One day my brother Justin came by and said something thatI never expected to hear anyone say. Referring to Rusty, hesaid "I don't like him." At the time, he was sitting in a chairadjacent to the sofa. Rusty climbed up on the sofa and lookeddirectly at him, as if to ask: "Can you look me in the eyes andsay that?" Dad and I both laughed. At the time, I dismissedthat comment as the rest of us had deep, everlasting lovefor Rusty and having the nickname God's Puppy does comewith certain obvious privileges. Besides how could the entireneighborhood, passing strangers and the rest of the familybe wrong?

Now Sylvester was a different story. Sylvester was an orangecolored cat owned by the next door neighbors. He was alsoa frequent visitor -- climbing into the window box, andlooking inside the house. Dad sometimes left cat food outsidefor him. Once in a while Rusty would see Sylvester at thewindow and let him know, in no uncertain terms, that hewas not welcome. One day I saw Sylvester give Rusty a lookthat I thought cats could only do in cartoons. His face wasso contorted with anger, that he actually looked dangerous.Fortunately the window between them was safely closed.

Sylvester knew that.

He was a very bold and wise cat. Sometimes he would enterthe house and walk around. I guess he must have checkedto see if Rusty was outside before making such a courageousmove. Those two not liking each other somehow made sense.Why a human could say he didn't like Rusty, I will neverknow.

One year, I decided to spend my vacation in Paris. When Ihear the song "J'ai Deux Amours, Mon Paix et Paris" ("I havetwo loves, my country and Paris") – I always think that it waswritten especially for me because that is exactly how I feelabout my country and that beautiful city.

I could easily walk the length of Paris and still be ready towalk some more.

One afternoon, while leaving the section surrounding thebeautiful and opulent Opéra Garnier, I decided to walk downAvenue de l'Opéra -- and to my surprise -- found Brentano's,an American bookstore. Since I love browsing and shoppingin bookstores, I quickly walked through the door.

I found the metaphysical section and my eyes rested upona book called The Four Agreements by don Miguel Ruiz. Iopened a page at random and started reading a story abouta woman who came home from work one night feelingemotionally tense, tired and headachy. Her little daughter,who she adored, was singing loudly. Because of the stateshe was in, the mother only wanted peace and quiet andthe singing made her headache worse. She became angryand told her child to be quiet because her voice was "ugly."The little girl grew up thinking her voice was displeasingand hearing it --would only disturb others. Because of thesethoughts, she never sang again.

I thought "I've got to read further and check this author out"because when I was young, I was criticized, by relatives, forwanting to sing professionally. One of them told me overand over that I couldn't sing -- even though she had neveractually heard me.

I didn't listen.

It had taken classes with many spiritual teachers, readingscores of metaphysical books and a move to Paris, to getthose voices out of my head. I learned how to allow myselfto freely follow my dreams. Now I found someone who waswriting about a little girl who stopped singing because sheagreed with her mother's assessment of her voice. Don Miguelexplained that we have to be mindful about the agreementswe make with ourselves. They can actually change ourlives.

I was definitely going to read this book.

I returned to New York and began having dreams about abrown skinned man with wavy black hair. He didn't speakor move around so I had no idea what his presence in mydreams meant. He simply appeared briefly, leaving mewondering who he was.

Soon after, I received a catalogue from The Omega Institutein Rhinebeck, NY and it advertised a five day retreat withdon Miguel Ruiz teaching The Four Agreements.

This was the name of the book that I found in Paris.

I looked at don Miguel's picture and also realized that hewas the man I had dreamt about. Plans were quickly madeto attend this retreat.

I did, and it was a life changing experience.

As part of the retreat, don Miguel taught us a shamanic ritualcalled the "Mitote Ceremony" where we forgive, release anddetach from all the hurts and dramas we are carrying around.Some of the descriptive words for mitote are: confusion,disturbance and commotion. These are negative situationsin your mind that need to be removed and replaced withpeace.

Before the ceremony, you find a stone. You choose a notebookand begin by writing a description of the stone as if it wereyour body. Then you write a heading at the top of anotherpage that says: "This is my last judgment." After signingyour name and dating it, you write a title that says: "TheJudge." Under it you write your story. This will include anynegativity that is taking up space in your mind and robbingyou of your peace. When this is complete you write anothertitle called "The Victim." Under this heading you write outthe question: "How did this make you feel?" To respond, youlist all of your emotional reactions to the experiences youare judging. It ends with a sacred ceremony where you kneeland with one hand you hold the stone up to the sun (FatherSun) for "blessing" and with the other you are touching theearth (Mother Earth) for "nourishment." Then you stand upand all of these issues that you wrote about are blown intothe stone seven times.

After that, you bury the stone.

I found this to be very effective because it either erases thenegative situations from my memory or if I ever think aboutthem again, it is totally without any emotional attachment.It feels as if I've surrendered the drama – and reclaimed mypeace of mind.

I was doing a mitote ceremony, by a garden, at the end of ourdriveway. I decided to do the "burial" part of the ceremonythere.

While I was finishing, Rusty walked down the driveway.Instead of running up to me as he usually did, he sat arespectable distance away as if he understood that a sacredact was taking place and he was to sit there quietly. At onepoint it looked, and felt, as if he was totally in touch withwhat I was doing. It made me feel wonderful. He was calmand poised and there was a radiance about him. With the sunshining down on him, I thought "he looks majestic." I don'tknow why I was surprised. Many times my sweet dog did theright thing at the right time.

CHAPTER 3

"Who can believe there is no soul behind thoseluminous eyes?" – Theophile Gautier

Like most dogs, Rusty was terrified of thunderstorms. Hewould climb up on the bed and cling to the mattress, as ifhis life depended on it.

When he first came to live with us, he was afraid to godownstairs to the basement. This fear lasted until one daythere was a thunderstorm and all the humans were -- inthe basement. He quickly made the decision that joining usthere was safer than staying upstairs with all of that horrifi cnoise.

After that storm, the basement became one of his favoritehangouts.

One evening we were walking around the corner from thehouse when suddenly a car came to a screeching halt. Itnarrowly missed hitting a toy poodle. The owner ran out intothe street and picked up her dog. Seeing that the little dogwas safe, we continued our walk.

We walked for several blocks and then turned around andheaded back towards the house. All of a sudden I heardsomeone yelling. I looked across the street and there wasthe same woman holding the little dog in her arms. Shewas saying: "wait." Of course we did. She crossed the street,stooped down and placed her dog's face near Rusty's. Thenshe said: "you almost got killed trying to see him – so therehe is!"

She introduced her dog as Bijou and explained that everytime she walked past Dad's house, her dog would pull her inthe direction of the gate so that she could see Rusty. Seeinghim outside of the gate got her so excited that she threwcaution to the winds and risked her life to be near him.

Rusty's fans were not just humans.

Another evening, I was on the phone trying to reach acustomer service representative at one of my credit cardcompanies – a rather frustrating task.

I was given one prompt after another. If it's this: press one, forthat: press two. "Calls will be answered in the order received.Please stay on the line, a representative will be with youshortly." I was getting more and more frustrated and tired ofholding the phone. All I wanted was a human voice to takemy call and answer a simple question. I must have been onhold for at least fifteen minutes!

Suddenly Rusty walked in, joyfully wagging his tail, steppingon the phone wire and disconnecting the call! After twoseconds of shock, all I could do was laugh and hug him.

He was so cute.

CHAPTER 4

"My little dog – a heartbeat at my feet." – Edith Wharton

One New Year's Eve Dad, Chantal, Rusty and I had a littlecelebration at the house. All of us, including Rusty, werewearing party hats. He had his water while we dranksparkling apple cider. We took lots of pictures and joyfullywelcomed in the New Year.

It was one of the best New Year's Eve parties I have everattended!

I once teased my niece about how they had given him awayand how lucky we were to have kept him. She defensivelyreplied: "I had nothing to do with it -- I was eight years oldat the time!"

This information was helpful because, for the first time, I hadan idea of Rusty's possible age.

I came home from church one Sunday and the gate wasunlatched and opened. Rusty was at the far end of the driveway.Something had happened to his back leg and he couldn'twalk on it. I carried him up the stairs. A neighbor came overand wrapped the leg. Then I called a few veterinarians. Sinceit was Sunday, I was getting one voice mail after another.Finally I got someone who said they were closed but couldsee him the next day, without an appointment, "if it's anemergency." I somehow had the feeling that he had been hitby a car.

It was just a feeling.

I had an appointment in New York City the next day butnaturally decided that Rusty's wellbeing would be mypriority; if he wasn't better by the next morning, I wouldtake him to the vet's office.

The next morning he was still limping and I was in tears. Icancelled my appointment and got ready to take him to thedoctor. A young man, who was working for my father, cameover to accompany us. I asked him to carry Rusty in hisarms. I thought getting him off of his feet would lessen thepain and also emphasize the emergency aspect of the visit.

When it was our turn, the vet's assistant placed Rusty onthe examining table; he removed a few ticks and asked meif I wanted an x-ray done. I said "yes." As Rusty lay on hisback waiting for the x-ray. I told him not to be afraid -- toremember that he was "God's Puppy." The veterinarian gaveme a look as if to say: "finally, somebody gets it."