“Oh doggy, where did you come from?”, she said, her voice surprised. I looked up from the car’s navigation screen. As I slowly backed out of our parking spot at the small Taoist temple we had just visited, I caught sight of an old dog standing, waiting, near our car. It was watching us with calm, knowing eyes.
Lao-Gou continued on his path after the car that left the temple grounds. His old legs knew every stone by heart. Mist hung in the air, wrapping around the ancient trees and moss-covered statues. The air shimmered with the scent of incense, the smoke curling like ancient whispers.
He stood at the heart of the courtyard, breathing in the essence of the temple. Countless souls had passed through this sacred space, their hopes and sorrows weaving into the very fabric of it. He could feel them all, a tapestry of human experiences.
This temple was more than his home; it was his domain. He remembered being a small black puppy, a spirit of mischief and joy, darting between the feet of the monks and visitors. Now his muzzle was silvered with wisdom, his eyes deep pools of knowledge.
Lao-Gou began his afternoon pilgrimage, ensuring all was as it should be. This was his sacred duty, to guard and guide, to maintain the balance between the seen and unseen.
The head monk materialized from the main hall. He and Lao-Gou shared a look that transcended words, a recognition of kindred spirits. Lao-Gou held the monk’s gaze for a timeless moment before continuing on his way. The temple’s gates would soon close, but he would remain, a sentinel in the gathering dusk.
As the sun descended in a blaze of divine fire, Lao-Gou breathed in the essence of life itself. Another day in the eternal cycle, another opportunity to fulfil his purpose. And he would continue, as he always had, until the appointed hour when he would take his place among the stars.
A young man came into the temple grounds as the sun was high in the sky. Lao-Gou watched him from the shade of an old bodhi tree. The man’s steps were heavy, his shoulders bent like he carried a weight too big for him. He knew that look. He had seen it many times before. The look of someone lost, someone searching for a path in the dark.
The man stood before the altar, his head bowed in silent prayer. His hands gripped a pair of crescent moon blocks, the polished wood worn smooth by countless seeking hands. Lao-Gou walked closer, slowly, his tail swishing gently. As if feeling Lao-Gou’s presence, the man turned. His gaze met the old dog’s, and for a moment, everything was still. Lao-Gou looked back, his eyes deep and calm.
With a deep breath, the man tossed the crescent moon blocks onto the temple floor. They clattered and spun, coming to rest with one face up and one face down. The man frowned, uncertainty etched in the lines of his face. Lao-Gou padded forward, nosing the fallen blocks. Then, slowly, he turned and walked towards a small side path, one that wound through the quiet corners of the temple grounds. He paused and looked back at the man, a silent invitation.
The man hesitated for only a breath before he scooped up the blocks and followed. Lao-Gou led him past whispering bamboo and over worn stone bridges. The path ended at a small, often overlooked shrine, half-hidden by climbing vines. Lao-Gou sat beside it, his tail curled around his paws. The man stood uncertain, eyes flickering between the aged stone and the patient dog.
With trembling hands, the man cast the blocks once more. This time, they landed with both faces up, a sign of divine favour. The man’s eyes widened, a smile breaking across his face like the dawn. Slowly, he reached out and brushed his fingers over the carved characters on the shrine. As he read the ancient teachings etched there, something in his face began to change. The lines of worry eased, replaced by a dawning light of understanding.
The man bowed deeply to the shrine, then turned to Lao-Gou. He pressed his palms together in a gesture of gratitude, a wordless thank you. Lao-Gou inclined his head in return, then watched as the man made his way back to the main temple, a new spring in his step. Another soul touched, another life guided. The quiet guardian then returned to his watch in the dappled shade.
As the sun began to dip towards the horizon, a woman walked into the temple. She moved slowly, her head bowed, her steps heavy with grief. In her hands, she held a small wooden tablet, a spirit tablet for a loved one, recently passed. Lao-Gou watched her from his place near the temple gate. He could sense her sorrow, a deep ache that radiated from her like a cold mist. The woman made her way to the altar, where she placed the spirit tablet with reverent care. She lit a stick of incense, the fragrant smoke curling around her like a comforting embrace.
As she stepped back from the altar, her gaze fell upon the temple gardens, where the last light of day painted the leaves in shades of gold. Almost without thought, she began to walk, her feet carrying her into the quiet green.
Lao-Gou followed at a distance, a silent shadow watching over her. The woman wandered the winding paths, her fingers trailing over the smooth bark of the trees, and the soft petals of the flowers. She breathed in the scent of the earth, the sweet air that whispered of life even in the midst of loss. In a quiet corner of the garden, she came upon a small statue of Jizo, the bodhisattva who watches over the souls of the departed. The stone figure was weathered and worn, but its face was serene, a gentle smile carved upon its lips.
The woman knelt before the statue, her hands clasped in prayer. Tears fell silently down her cheeks, glittering in the fading light. Lao-Gou approached quietly, coming to sit beside her. He leaned his old body against her side, a warm and solid presence in her moment of grief.
The woman looked down, her tear-filled eyes meeting Lao-Gou’s steady gaze. In the depths of those ancient eyes, she saw understanding, compassion, and a wordless promise that she was not alone.
As the woman’s hand, shaking and with hesitation, sank into Lao-Gou’s fur, the world around them began to shift. The temple walls seemed to dissolve, the golden statues and flickering candles fading into a soft, shimmering mist. Time slowed, each heartbeat an eternity. In this space between breaths, the woman and Lao-Gou existed in a realm beyond the physical, a place where the boundaries of the self grew thin and the soul could touch the infinite. The woman’s sobs, once a raging tempest, quieted to a gentle rain. Her grief, so sharp and heavy, began to soften at the edges, melting into the vast ocean of peace that surrounded them.
In this sanctuary, there was no death, no loss, only the endless flow of love that connected all things. The woman felt it then, a warmth that permeated her being, a light that filled the cracks of her broken heart. Lao-Gou was the anchor, the steady presence that held her in this space of healing. His fur was a field of stars, each strand a path to a different corner of the universe. In his eyes, the woman saw the turning of the seasons, the rise and fall of empires, the dance of creation and destruction that was the heartbeat of existence.
And she understood, with a clarity that pierced the veil of illusion, that her husband had not ceased to be, but had only changed form, his essence woven into the tapestry of the cosmos. Her tears flowed freely now, but they were tears of release, of surrender to the greater mystery that held them all. She let herself sink deeper into Lao-Gou’s warmth, into the space of connection that was a balm to her aching soul. Slowly, gently, the temple began to reassert itself, the mists fading back into solid stone and wood. But something had changed, a shift so subtle and so profound that the woman knew she would carry it with her always.
“Thank you,” she whispered, her voice rough with emotion.
Lao-Gou simply looked at her, his tail wagging gently. He watched as she made her way back to the temple, her steps lighter than before.
The moon hung low in the sky, a silver dollar glinting against the black. Lao-Gou walked across the temple courtyard, his paws making no sound on the stone. He did this every night after the last visitor had left and the monks had retired to their rooms.
The head monk was waiting for him, sitting cross-legged on a mat. A single candle flickered beside him, casting dancing shadows on the walls. When Lao-Gou entered, the monk looked up and smiled. “Hello, old friend,” he said. His voice was like the rustle of autumn leaves. Lao-Gou sat down facing the monk.
The monk reached out and rested his hand on Lao-Gou’s head. It was a gentle touch, warm and familiar. Lao-Gou closed his eyes. “I’ve been thinking,” the monk said. “About time, and how it flows like a river. Always moving, never stopping.” Lao-Gou made a soft sound in his throat. He understood time. He had seen it pass, like clouds across the sky.
“I’m getting old,” the monk continued. “One day, I’ll be gone. But you… you’ll still be here. Watching, waiting.” Lao-Gou opened his eyes. In them, the monk saw a thousand lifetimes, a thousand moons reflected in still water. “Sometimes I wonder what you really are,” the monk said softly. “You’re more than just a dog, aren’t you?”
Lao-Gou didn’t answer. He just looked at the monk, his gaze steady and deep. The monk sighed. “It doesn’t matter. You’re here, and that’s enough.”
They sat together in silence, the man and the dog, as the candle burned lower and the moon travelled across the sky. When the candle finally guttered out, the monk stood up. Lao-Gou stood too, shaking out his fur. “Until tomorrow, my friend,” the monk said.
Lao-Gou wagged his tail once, then turned and padded out of the room. The monk watched him go, a small smile on his face. In the courtyard, the night air was cool and sweet. Lao-Gou breathed it in, filling his lungs with the scent of jasmine and stone. Then he walked on, disappearing into the shadows of the temple, a golden ghost in the dark.
Lao-Gou lay in the cool shade of a bodhi tree, his eyes half-closed. The temple was quiet, the only sound was the gentle rustling of leaves in the breeze. In moments like these, he let his mind wander. He thought about the people who came to the temple, each one a universe unto themselves. He had seen so many faces over the years, so many eyes bright with hope or dull with despair.
Some came seeking answers, others came to leave their burdens behind. Some came with joy in their hearts, ready to celebrate life’s blessings. Others came with grief, their spirits heavy with loss. But no matter why they came, Lao-Gou was here, a silent presence, a steady companion on the winding path of life.
He thought about the nature of that path, how it twisted and turned, sometimes leading through sunlit fields, other times through the darkest of nights. He had walked it himself, many times over. The path was not always easy. There were thorns and pitfalls, moments when the way forward seemed lost in shadow. But he also knew that there was always light ahead, even if it was sometimes hard to see.
That was the lesson he tried to impart, in his own quiet way. That no matter how dark the night, dawn would always come. That no matter how heavy the burden, there was always a way to set it down.
Lao-Gou shifted, letting out a contented sigh. The sun had moved across the sky, dappling the ground with golden light. Soon, after sunset, the monks would come out for their evening meditations, and the temple would fill with the soft murmur of chanted sutras.
But for now, it was just Lao-Gou and his thoughts, spinning out like silvery threads in the warm afternoon air. He knew that he was not separate from the universe. He was a part of it, woven into its very fabric. Just like the people who came to the temple, just like the monks and the birds and the trees. They were all connected, all part of the same great dance. The dance of life and death, of joy and sorrow, of light and dark. The dance that had no beginning and no end, but spiraled on forever, like a flower eternally unfolding.
Lao-Gou let that truth fill him, let it settle into his bones. And as he drifted off to sleep, he dreamed of a world where all beings knew that truth. A world of harmony and understanding, where every heart was at peace. In his dreams, Lao-Gou ran through fields of stars, leaving trails of light in his wake. And the universe dreamed with him, a great golden dog forever bounding through the vast expanse of the cosmos.
As dawn’s first light crept over the mountains, a car pulled into the temple’s parking lot. The engine’s hum faded to silence, and the doors opened, releasing the sounds of a family stirring to wakefulness. Lao-Gou watched from his perch atop the temple steps, his golden fur set aflame by the rising sun. He saw the child first, a little girl with curious eyes and a smile that could outshine the dawn.
The girl’s parents followed, their movements still heavy with sleep. They made their way towards the temple, footsteps echoing in the morning stillness. Lao-Gou rose to greet them, his tail swaying gently. The girl’s eyes widened at the sight of him, a gasp of delight escaping her lips.
“Mama, look! A golden dog!”
The mother smiled, her hand resting on her daughter’s shoulder. “Yes, I see him. He must be the temple’s guardian.” Lao-Gou inclined his head, as if in agreement. He led the family into the courtyard, where the first wisps of incense smoke were beginning to rise from the giant brass burner.
The father went to light a stick of incense, his head bowed in reverence. The mother knelt before the altar, her lips moving in silent prayer. And the child, the little girl with the sunrise smile, she wandered over to him, her curiosity overcoming her shyness. She sat down next to him, her small hand resting on his back.
“Do you live here all the time?” she asked. “Don’t you get lonely?”
Lao-Gou looked at her, his ancient eyes full of gentle wisdom. He thought of all the sunrises he had seen, all the stories he had witnessed within these walls. He leaned into the girl’s touch, a low hum of contentment in his throat. She giggled, delighted by his response.
Too soon, it was time to go. The mother called to her daughter, and the girl reluctantly stood up. “I’ll come back and visit,” she promised, her hand lingering on Lao-Gou’s fur. “Wait for me, okay?” He watched as they walked back to their car, the girl turning to wave at him one last time. As the car pulled away, he felt a warmth in his chest, a sense of connection that transcended words.
He turned and made his way back into the temple, ready to begin his daily rituals. The sun was climbing higher now, painting the courtyard in gold. Lao-Gou paused, looking up at the sky. He thought of the girl, of the seed of compassion he had sensed within her. In a world that often seemed full of shadows, she was a bright spark, a promise of hope.
He smiled to himself, a quiet, knowing smile - he was exactly where he was meant to be.