MY SPOTTED DOG LOVE ❤️

They told me Buddha was “just a dog.” But from the moment he walked into my life, spotted like a canvas painted with joy and chaos, I knew he was more than that. He was not named after the Buddha by accident. This dog, with his black-and-white coat and eyes that looked like he had read all the wisdom of the world, changed how I speak… and how I listen.

When I adopted Buddha, he had already been returned to the shelter twice. “Too sensitive,” they said. “Too stubborn.” But I saw something else, a creature who felt too deeply, who needed time, trust, and someone to truly understand him. The first few weeks were rough. He would refuse commands, stare at me with suspicion, sometimes run in wild circles as if he were chasing thoughts only he could see. But one rainy night, everything changed. I was sitting on the floor after a long day, exhausted from teaching and wondering if anyone ever truly hears each other anymore. Without a word, Buddha came over, rested his head on my knee, and sighed. Just one long, soft sigh. That moment - his silence - taught me something I had never learned from books. It taught me how to listen beyond words. To pause. To feel. To wait until someone is ready. And this has changed not only how I live… but how I teach.

Whether you’re learning English, finding your voice, or trying to fit your thoughts into a second language, you need what Buddha gave me: patience, presence, and peace. Not pressure. Sometimes, the best teacher doesn’t speak your language. He just lies down beside you, quietly, and believes in you, even when you don’t. Buddha still lies next to my desk during lessons. Occasionally, he looks up with his soulful eyes, as if to remind me: "Don’t rush. They’re trying." "Let them feel safe." "Everyone blooms at their own time." So no, he’s not just a dog. He’s the gentle soul behind every kind word I offer. The reason I teach with empathy instead of ego. And perhaps, the only dog who’s ever taught a human how to truly listen.