The Present of Presence: It’s Already There!

Dogs already know that you are their greatest gift. photo: AdobeStock

Winter invites us to slow down. As days grow shorter and temperatures drop, we naturally turn inward, seeking warmth and connection. The holiday season gives us permission to pause, reflect, and appreciate what truly matters. And if you share your life with a dog, one of your greatest gifts is already right beside you: the relationship you have with them.

Dogs offer something rare in our human world - unconditional presence. They don’t judge your choices or keep score of your mistakes. Had a terrible day? Your dog doesn’t care. They’ll let you pull them close and cry into their fur or greet you with the same enthusiasm whether you’ve been gone 10 minutes or 10hours.

They also remind us not to take life so seriously. Every morning, I get down on the floor to greet Chester and Fernando, stretching while offering some social play. Fernando gets wonderfully goofy, and Chester - well, Chester likes to crack jokes. We always end up laughing because he’s pretty silly with the things he makes up during our play sessions. If you haven’t tried social play with your dog, you’re missing out on one of the simplest joys in the world.

Our dogs keep us young and active, pulling us outside even when we’d rather stay cozy. Those daily outings aren’t just exercise, they’re an invitation to notice the world. The way light hits the pavement on a cold morning. The neighbor who always stops to say hello. The smells your dog finds endlessly fascinating that you’d never pause to consider. Our dogs connect us to our communities and remind our bodies they’re meant to move, to be in the world rather than just observing it from inside. They help make us more social, more present, more alive.

And perhaps most important, our dogs are masters at being grounded. They understand something our culture often forgets: rest is resistance. In a world that glorifies busyness and treats exhaustion like a badge of honor, dogs model something radical - the idea that doing nothing is sometimes exactly what’s needed. They nap without guilt. They lie in sunbeams without checking their phones. They rest when they’re tired, and in doing so, they give us permission to do the same.

Our dogs don’t care about our job titles, our salaries, or how many items we checked off our to-do list today. They remind us that we are worth so much more than our productivity - that our value isn’t measured in output, but in presence, in connection, in the quality of attention we bring to our lives. Rest isn’t laziness. Rest is how we sustain ourselves, how we remain present for the relationships and work that truly matter. Our dogs know this instinctively.

With our dogs, we can have entire conversations without words. We can feel love without it being spoken directly. We communicate through glances, through touch, through the quality of our presence together.

Of course, this gift - like any meaningful relationship - requires tending. Your dog needs you to show up, to meet their needs, to be consistent and present. But there’s something different about the work of loving a dog. It doesn’t feel transactional. When you feed them, walk them, play with them, or care for them when they’re sick, you’re not checking boxes or fulfilling obligations. You’re participating in a relationship that feeds you in ways that have nothing to do with reciprocity and everything to do with connection. The work of loving a dog is work that feels like joy.

These small moments of genuine connection are the real gift. Not just for them, but for you. Your relationship with your dog is already there, already valuable, already profound. This winter, give yourself permission to slow down enough to truly appreciate it.​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​

Dogs teach us that love can be simple without being simplistic. They don’t need grand declarations or picture-perfect moments. They need consistency, presence, and care.

We humans often overcomplicate love. We worry about saying the right things, doing enough, being enough. Our dogs cut through all that noise. They show us that love is both profound and straightforward: show up, pay attention, be kind, be there. That’s it. That’s everything.

This is a season traditionally focused on generosity and gift-giving, on showing the people in our lives that they matter to us. But perhaps the greatest gift isn’t something you need to search for or purchase. It’s already there, curled up on the couch beside you, following you from room to room, waiting by the door for your return. Your relationship with your dog is the gift. Not something you had once, but something you have right now, in this moment. You just have to slow down enough to notice it.