That Comes from Loving Puppies

Last Christmas, my daughter Thalia gave me a journal. Her request was simple: she asked me to write down my reflections and whatever “wisdom” I’ve gathered over the years. I plan to give it back to her this coming December, filled with the thoughts I hope will serve her well.

As I’ve sat with this journal, my mind hasn’t gone to business strategies or grand philosophies. Instead, it has drifted back to the floor of our home, reflecting on a younger Thalia and her “zoo.”

I see her pouring an overwhelming volume of love into Blu, JoJo, Bruiser, Rusty, Pippa, and Maui. I see the tea parties, the prams, and Happy the rabbit. I see her reading stories to them as if they held the secrets of the universe, or crawling into a massive dog bed just to be near a sleeping friend.

Watching her, I realised she was practising a type of love that is entirely innocent. It is a love that lacks that “adult voice”—the one that keeps score, judges, and tries to tear things down. When a puppy had an accident on the rug or chewed a favourite shoe, Thalia didn’t withdraw. She didn’t label the dog a failure. She saw the mess as a natural part of a beautiful, growing life. She offered a warm hug and kept right on going.

The Lessons of Scarlet

Writing these notes for Thalia has helped me remember how to love myself, too. It took me back to my first puppy, Scarlet– he was an Irish Setter who became my best friend.

Scarlet was far from “perfect.” I remember the joy of his antics—the way he’d stand up like a person to open the back door, or how he’d sneakily lick the cream off my mum’s cakes while they were cooling on the counter. I remember him lying by the fire, farting so badly that we all had to evacuate the room.

Yet, every one of those moments was filled with love. We didn’t demand he be a different dog; we loved him for the stolen cream and the chaos. He taught me that you don’t have to be “well-behaved” to be worthy of a place by the fire.

The Mirror and the Puppy

Thalia is only twenty; she will be twenty-one in July. Yet, like so many of us, she has already begun to replace that “inner hug” with an internal critic.

I find myself writing in her journal—and thinking of my friends in Rome, Milan, Singapore, Abu Dhabi, New York, and Boston—about the power of looking in the mirror and seeing, not a list of flaws, but the “cutest puppy in the world.”

Imagine looking at your own reflection and feeling that same surge of protective, innocent joy. This kind of self-love isn’t arrogance; it is a profound humility. It is the humble recognition that you are a “wonderful form of life” deserving of protection. When you cultivate this, you discover an immutable truth: you can rely on yourself to love you more than you can rely on any other person.

A Sanctuary of One’s Own

When we view ourselves through this lens, our boundaries become as natural as a protective instinct.

• Protection: You wouldn’t let a stranger mistreat a puppy you loved; why do you allow the world to mistreat you?
• Identity: Mistakes stop being “who you are” and start being “accidents on the rug.” Licking the cream off the cake doesn’t make you a bad dog; it just makes you a hungry one.
• Appreciation: You start making decisions based on what is “good for you,” choosing the right jobs and the right partners because you wouldn’t dream of letting your “favourite creature” suffer.

A Life Well Lived

To my friends across the globe who feel trapped in jobs that drain them or marriages that have gone quiet: the voice saying it’s “too late” to change is just noise.

A life well lived is simply the act of becoming your own Scarlet. It is the ability to look at the ups and downs, the pains and the disappointments of life, and say: “I really, really love who I am. I appreciate this person.”

So, clean up the accidents. Forgive the “chewed shoes” and the “stolen cream” of your past. You are still worthy of the tea party. You are still worthy of the story. You are still worthy of the same fierce, unconditional devotion that a little girl once gave to a room full of lucky animals.