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Praise or The Radical Practice o Loving Everyone

“I believe that animals are on the planet so that we can know love and compassion. We are pro oundly connected to our pets more than we

are usually aware o , and Michael J. Chase captures that love in The Radical Practice of Loving Everyone. I happily endorse this book!”

— Louise L. Hay, author o the international bestseller You Can Heal Your Li e

“I love this book! It’s lled to the brim with gracious wisdom that’swoven into wonder ul, heart elt stories. As you read Michael Chase’s

well-cra ted words, you will nd yoursel laughing, nodding with pleasure, and even slapping your sides . . . as the gateway to ‘loving

everyone’ opens wide and deep.”

— Denise Linn, best-selling author o Sacred Space and Soul Coaching

“The Radical Practice of Loving Everyone is exuberant, hilarious,and thought provoking. It is an observation o the qualities that earn

dogs ‘best riend’ status and make us eel so good. More important, it’sa refection on how dogs can inspire us to be good, or at least better,

human beings than we otherwise might.”

— Anita Coupe, chair, board o directors o The Humane Society o the United States (2008–2012)

“I was in tears in the Prologue and laughing out loud in Chapter One.That’s when I knew I was going to love this book ! Indeed, Michael J.Chase has entertainingly captured not just the love a air we havewith our dogs, but why we’d do well to give up sel -help books and

guru sessions in avor o studying our canines. Mollie is an utter de-light, as are the lessons we learn rom her through Michael’s eyes.”

— Jeannette Maw, master certi ed coach and ounder o Good Vibe Coaching



“I am thrilled that Michael Chase has written another book! The

purity o the message will stir your soul, and most important, open your heart to everyday opportunities that can ignite within you an

unconditional love or all.”— Annie Burnside, award-winning author o Soul to Soul Parenting

“This is a real treat or dog lovers interested in digging deeper into how to live and love with a pure heart. Don’t con use this with the other dog books out there, because there’s no comparison. I highly recom-

mend it! Get a ew copies to share with the rest o your pack.”— Kat Jaibur, writer and ounder o Tiny Changes

“This book brought tears and laughter to my soul, and or all whoread it, it will show the sheer pleasure o man’s best riends and the

joy they bring to our lives.”

— Vicki Monroe, Spirit Messenger and author o Understanding Spirit,Understanding Yoursel and Voices From Heaven

“A big thank-you to Michael and Mollie or letting us join themon their adventures. From around the neighborhood to the path o

enlightenment, The Radical Practice of Loving Everyone teachesus that we only need a compass o love to ully enjoy the journey.”

— Karen C. Auld, ounder, Society o Ultimate Living

“Two paws up! You will love Mollie. You will laugh at Michael and Mollie’s adventures. You will learn about the simplicity o li e through

the perspective o the world’s greatest teacher: man’s best riend.”

— Oie Osterkamp, author, speaker, ounder o www.sharefsh.org , andexecutive director o the Ronald McDonald House o Durham



“Perspective and li e lessons rom a dog? Thank you, Michael J.

Chase, or being smart enough to learn—and kind enough to share— something so simple. Once again, you’ve served us with compassion

and altruism. Thank you or writing this brilliant book.”

— Scott Wittig, inspirational speaker and author o Holy It! and The Second Day

“This book gleans wisdom rom great spiritual teachers on how totrans orm our lives through deeper understanding, compassion, and

love. Chase’s li e shines as a model o one person’s dedication toinspiring kindness throughout the world.”

— Carlotta Girouard, MPP, co- ounder o the EvergreenInstitute or Wellness



The Radical Practice of

Lo ing

E er one



The Radical Practice of

Lo ing

E er onea four-leggedapproach to

enlightenment

Michael J. Chase

HAY HOUSE, INC.Carlsbad, California • New York City

London • Sydney • JohannesburgVancouver • Hong Kong • New Delhi



Copyright © 2013 by Michael J. Chase Published and distributed in the United States by: Hay House, Inc.: www.hayhouse.com ® • Published and distributed in Australia by: Hay HouseAustralia Pty. Ltd.: www.hayhouse.com.au • Published and distributed inthe United Kingdom by: Hay House UK, Ltd.: www.hayhouse.co.uk • Pub-lished and distributed in the Republic of South Africa by: Hay House SA(Pty), Ltd.: www.hayhouse.co.za • Distributed in Canada by: Raincoast:www.raincoast.com • Published in India by: Hay House Publishers India:www.hayhouse.co.in

Cover design: Michael J. Chase • Interior design: Jenny Richards

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced by anymechanical, photographic, or electronic process, or in the orm o a phono-graphic recording; nor may it be stored in a retrieval system, transmitted,or otherwise be copied or public or private use—other than or “ air use”as brie quotations embodied in articles and reviews—without prior writtenpermission o the publisher.

The author o this book does not dispense medical advice or prescribethe use o any technique as a orm o treatment or physical, emotional,or medical problems without the advice o a physician, either directly orindirectly. The intent o the author is only to o er in ormation o a generalnature to help you in your quest or emotional and spiritual well-being. Inthe event you use any o the in ormation in this book or yoursel , which isyour constitutional right, the author and the publisher assume no respon-sibility or your actions.

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

ISBN: 978-1-4019-4202-1Digital ISBN: 978-1-4019-4203-8

16 15 14 13 4 3 2 11st edition, May 2013

Printed in the United States o America



For Mollie



Contents

Prologue ........................................................................ xiiiIntroduction ....................................................................x

PART I: In the Beginning Was theWord . . . and the Word Was Dog .........1

Chapter 1: The Cookie Thief ....................................3

Chapter 2: The Rescue Mission ...............................9

Chapter 3 : One Sick Pupp ....................................17

Chapter 4: How Bad Can She Be? .........................23

Chapter 5: The Road Less Tra eled ......................33

Chapter 6: Wake-Up Call ........................................43

PART II: When the Student Is Read ,the Teacher Will Appear ......................55

Chapter 7 : A Deeper Understanding ....................57

Chapter 8: Simple Reminders ................................65



Chapter 9: Wag More, Bark Less ...........................75

Chapter 10: Go with the Flow..................................87

Chapter 11: Into the Light ........................................99

Chapter 12: Curiosit ..............................................109

Chapter 13: Dealing with Dif cult Dogs .............123

PART III: A New Leash on Life .........................143Chapter 14: 24 Hours of Kindness ........................145

Chapter 15: E er da Heroes ................................177

Chapter 16: Learning to Lo e Again ....................195

Chapter 17: Enlightenment ....................................209

Chapter 18: The Long Walk Home .......................221

Acknowledgments..........................................................233About the Author ...........................................................235



xiii

Prologue

By day’s end, her ears throbbed. The sound o clanging ood dishes and slamming metal doors

was agonizing. She never understood why every-thing had to be so loud. The keys swinging rom thetall, lanky man’s belt especially tortured her. His a-miliar shouts o , “Eat and shit! That’s all you guys

ever do—eat and shit!” were requently heard up anddown the hallway. That, coupled with the incessantbarking o her cell mates, made her sometimes eelas i the ability to hear was a curse. She curled upinto a corner and placed her oversized paws on herhead, hoping to drown out the clamor.

Only one person seemed to know how to make

the noises go away: the lady who fipped the threeswitches next to the escape door. This late-day activ-ity caused the racket to stop, but it also made every-thing go dark. Instantly. At rst, the silence that ol-lowed the darkness was com orting, but it also meant



The Radical PRacTice of loving eveRyone

xi

no ood, colder foors, and mustering the patience towait or the morning rituals: a bowl o dry kibble ol-lowed by the arrival o visitors.

Everything was di erent when the visitors werethere. Loud voices became so ter, cells were cleaner,and the man with 30 keys no longer yelled abouteating and shitting. Once he even smiled. Everyoneacted riendlier during these visits—the cell matesand especially the guards. These were the only timesthat made sense; they reminded her o why she’dbeen born. Some prisoners had been there too longand had orgotten . . . but not her. She knew. Al-though she was only eight weeks old, her little soulunderstood the signi cance o these meetings. One

chance encounter could change everything. Onedeep connection would o er her the chance to ul llher destiny. And one visitor’s choice to set her reewould end the su ering, revealing the very purposeo her li e—to teach the world how to love everyone.



x

Introduction

M ost spiritual seekers know that unconditionallove is the oundation or achieving enlight-

enment. But as someone who’s been on “the path”or a very long time, I’ll admit that I sometimes won-der: Is it really possible to love everyone in today’s world? Loving most, that’s viable—but everyone? Over the

years, I’ve read hundreds o sel -empowermentbooks and tried a variety o methods that ocusedon how to accomplish this . . . but it still remained amystery to me.

Since the answer was unclear, I decided to ask anew question. Instead o ocusing on how, I began toask, Who? Who do I know that exudes the qualities o a

great spiritual master—a person who lives in the present moment, is detached rom the material world, embracessimplicity, has the joy ul heart o a child, and loves with-out condition? Being surrounded by so many deep andphilosophical riends, I gured there must be some-one in my li e with these traits. For days I refected




x iii

These twin purposes are also human nature. It makesno di erence whether you are a person standing up-right or a our- ooted creature happily chasing Fris-bees in the backyard. I believe that we all emanatedrom a source that loves everyone. Maybe the resulto spelling dog backward is no coincidence a ter all.



PART I

In the Beginning Wasthe Word . . . and the

Word Was Dog



3

Chapter 1

The Cookie Thief

She looked like a Tasmanian devil, spinning reck-lessly and carving her way through reshly all-

en snow. My two riends and I, on the other hand,looked like The Three Stooges, slipping and slidingdown the driveway as Mollie zigzagged betweenus. We circled, dove at her, and even yelled out themagic words, “Come get a cookie!” Nothing worked.As my wi e, Cara, looked down rom the third-foorwindow o our apartment, I knew I was a dead man.The mother o all Mollie incidents was un olding,and Cara had a bird’s-eye view.

I had just broken rule number one— never let Mol-lie o her leash. The truth is, I had done it countlesstimes (not to my wi e’s knowledge), and, eventually,




6

snowball coming straight at him. When Mollie dovethrough the gap between his legs, he nally realizedwhat the shouting was all about. I couldn’t believemy eyes as I watched her tail disappear around thecorner and out o sight. Mollie was now inside thehouse, and there was no telling what would happen.

By the time I made it to the ront door, Molliewas long gone. Red aced and out o breath, I mademy way into the kitchen. One o the sisters was sit-ting at the table while the other leaned on the coun-ter. A tiny, 13-inch TV to their le t blared, “Come ondooowwwn! You’re the next contestant on The Price

Is Right! ” They de nitely needed a new TV.I was totally embarrassed but had to ask: “Uh . . .

hi there . . . did you see a dog come through here?” The woman at the table looked up at me, smil-

ing and with no concern whatsoever. Cookie crumbscovered her lips. Her sister turned away rom the TVand said, “Oh, she’s just beauti ul.”

I waited or more in ormation, but that was it.So I spoke again: “Thank you. But do you happen toknow which way she may have gone?”

Again, she reiterated, “What a pretty dog youhave.”

In my head I was screaming, Holy crap, lady! Mollie is going to tear your reakin’ house down! But in-




10

doorsman, I antasized about having a new shingbuddy. And being a realist, my wi e simply hopedthat she wouldn’t be the one doing the work. Feed-ing, walking, brushing, and training would soonbecome added tasks to our already busy li e. But Ipromised Cara that most o the puppy chores wouldbe mine—especially keeping the yard clear o landmines!

Finally, the day I’d been waiting or had arrived.There was an indescribable eeling o excitement inthe car. A ter a our-hour drive into the boondocks,we were now just moments away rom what was sureto be a magical land o dancing dogs. I’d pictured itall day—a wave o puppies would rush toward our

car, wagging their tails, leaping and welcoming usto their country home. My mind raced with poten-tial name choices and the thought o all the newtoys we could buy. I’d also need to buy a doggy li e-vest. Fishing season wouldn’t end or another sevenweeks, and I couldn’t wait or my new riend to joinme on the water.

Driving through the ront gate, I was besidemysel , perhaps even a little giddy. We had arrived!But, as we turned the corner and pulled up to thebuilding . . . my heart immediately collapsed intomy stomach. I was in total disbelie . Looking over



The Rescue Mission

11

at Cara, I could see that she elt the same way. Herexpression appeared to say, “Turn the car aroundright now.”

The breeder’s place looked more like a prisoncamp rom a war movie than the “Disney Worldor dogs” impression given on the website. Broken-down cars and dilapidated sheds were everywhere.Children with no shoes ran amok. A rusty chain-link ence surrounded dozens o barking hostages.Each one’s insistent yelp seemed to cry out the samething: “Get me the hell outta here!” The ocal pointo the compound, a large, blue-and-gray building,had the genuine look and eel you’d expect roma penal complex. It soon became obvious that this

acility had all the components o a puppy mill—a breeding operation where pro ts take precedenceover the dogs’ wel are. What was supposed to be anadoption now elt more like a rescue mission.

An el n, bare oot guard quickly brought us to thewarden, who interestingly enough had the same char-acteristics as the prisoners. Her elongated nose andround eyes were surrounded by a 1980-something-looking perm, which hung loosely in her ace. Asshe extended her hand to welcome us, I had mixedeelings. I desperately wanted to bring home a newpuppy, but seeing these horrible conditions brought




12

out the skeptic and judgmental tendencies in me.Over and over I thought, I don’t trust this lady who’sresponsible or this lthy establishment. I especially dis-liked the idea o giving her our hard-earned moneyand wondered i this whole operation was even legal.

As unsettling as it was to see the grounds out-side, the inside was much worse. As we walkedthrough the building, we noticed that the prison-ers, separated by color, were surrounded by con-crete walls and thick metal bars. Each cell block helddozens o black, white, and gray pups, and even ahand ul with reddish coats. Big, wide eyes peeredout rom between the bars, gazing deep into the soulo anyone who dared to make eye contact. Imme-

diately, I started to antasize about doing a Rambo-like mission— sneaking in late at night, opening thegates, and setting them all ree.

Earlier in the week, Cara had explained our dogpre erences over the phone to the owner. She knewwe wanted a standard (the largest o the breed) and,i possible, the less-common apricot color we’d seenonline. Understanding our wishes, she guided us toa small room, which emitted the sounds o a caninechoir. As we walked through the door, eight whirl-ing balls o ur immediately greeted us. The sighto them would have melted the iciest o hearts and



The Rescue Mission

13

brought the toughest guy to his knees. While theydanced around our eet, Cara looked at me, and weboth had the exact same thought: How will we ever choose?

Seeing these puppies brought on a eeling o ex-citement . . . but also a bit o dread. The thought o leaving any o them behind in these miserable con-ditions was quite disheartening. We knew we couldonly choose one. But how? They were all so damncute! My son and I quickly became xated on onelittle guy who was pure energy—ears fapping, tailwagging, the whole bit. He seemed per ect. Bounc-ing rom wall to wall, he appeared to be saying,“Look at me! Look at me! I am soooo much un!” We

were hooked.Cara, however, was not as interested in our selec-

tion. She’d noticed that there was a red-haired lonersitting under a chair. What we thought was a choicebetween eight actually turned out to be nine. Andunlike the wild guy Alex and I were playing with,this tiny pup was bash ully hiding rom everyonein the room. She even looked downright depressed.The only things more piti ul than her droopy earswere her sad brown eyes.

Bending down with apprehension, my wi e gen-tly picked up number nine and placed it on her lap.




14

While caressing the puppy’s head, Cara looked at thewarden and asked, “Is there anything wrong withthis one? She seems sad.” In a nonchalant tone, thewoman slowly replied, “Oh, her . . . she’s just a littledim. Her lightbulb will come on in a week or so.”Having heard that, Cara’s motherly instincts kickedin. She wouldn’t even look at the others. She was de-termined to save number nine, and a duel was aboutto begin.

It was my high-energy pup versus her slowpoke—mine was regular and hers was deca . Their person-alities were like night and day. Alex and I argued thatwe wanted a play ul puppy, not a dud, but Cara wasonly interested in a sweet little girl to sit on her lap

and spoil. For several minutes we argued our casesback and orth. It was a dead heat. But this seeming-ly impossible decision was about to be made or us.Not by a coin toss or the warden’s input, but rather,by my very own contender. The dog Alex and I hadchosen suddenly stopped running so he could go.And go. And go. We all stood there in shock. Therewas obviously something wrong with him. My wi esaw this incident (or accident) as a sign and took it asan opportunity to close the deal. As the prison guardsmopped up the runny evidence, Cara gently placedher tiny riend into my arms. The warm sensation o



The Rescue Mission

15

puppy breath on my skin had me against the ropes,but I wasn’t giving in. Male dogs are more play ul, Ierroneously thought. Besides, I was sure that my guyonly needed a little doggie Pepto-Bismol. I contin-ued to stand my ground even when Cara’s choicepressed her nose up to my chin. I was thoroughlyconvinced that there was no way I could lose thisbattle . . . until I made the ultimate rookie mistake—Ilooked down into her so t brown eyes. That was allit took. My heart instantly melted. Seconds later, mynose was buried in her ur as I was kissing the top o her head, talking to her the way a parent gushes overa new baby. It was o cial: I was now head over heelsin love with number nine, and she was going home

with us. To this day, I’m still not sure who pickedwhom. . . .



1717

Chapter 3

One Sick Pupp

Ater much deliberation, we decided to call herMollie. And as proud parents, we did what all

others do—we put her on display or everyone tosee. During the rst ew days, we e-mailed photosto amily and riends, paraded her throughout theneighborhood, and pretty much turned our li einto one big show-and-tell. Each day became a newopportunity or us to brag that we had the world’s

cutest puppy.There was no denying that Mollie was adorable.She turned heads everywhere she went. But a ter therst week had gone by, something didn’t seem right.Her “lightbulb,” as the breeder had put it, was yet tocome on. We thought she’d be a bit more energetic




18

at this point, but that wasn’t the case. Rather thanplay with the 50 toys (I’m only slightly exaggerat-ing) we’d purchased or her, Mollie would sit qui-etly by hersel under the kitchen table leaning onher “kickstand,” which is what we nicknamed herback right leg, because it o ten served as the primarysupport or her body as she sat, tilting to one side. Itwas a sad sight.

Shortly a ter we brought Mollie home, she wasscheduled to get her rst set o shots. In the wait-ing area o the vet’s o ce, she sat quietly on Cara’slap. When it was her turn, Cara placed Mollie onthe examination table. Within minutes o meetingMollie, the doctor said, “Something isn’t right here.

A puppy shouldn’t be this lethargic.” The concernin his voice immediately made us eel anxious. Thedoctor decided that Mollie was too weak to receiveher shots and that we should wait a ew days to seei she might be coming down with something. Wewere devastated. Seeing her sad little ace broke ourhearts. Our new dog wasn’t “dim”; she was sick.

At the same time, I also had a ew health issues o my own to deal with. Ever since returning rom pup-py prison, my allergies had gone ballistic on me. Thesneezing was uncontrollable, and my bloodshot eyesmade me look as i I had a serious drug problem—



One Sick Puppy

19

which, in reality, I did! My problem, however, wasthat I couldn’t nd a drug that worked! Each day, Itried new antihistamines and sucked on my steroidinhaler. My sinuses were a complete mess, but it wasmy asthma that had everyone concerned.

A ew years be ore, I’d had a near-death experi-ence due to a severe asthma attack. As a result, I’dbeen orced to take my breathing problems muchmore seriously. A ter visiting my doctor or my cur-rent condition, she o ered me a cure . . . but I de-clined. She said that only one thing would make allo my miseries go away: get rid o Mollie. Upon hear-ing my doctor’s recommendation, Cara kindly toldme, “You’ll live in the basement before that hap -

pens.” I don’t think she was joking.The next week was lled with more o the

same—nothing helped my allergies, and Mollie wasstill quite rail. It was rustrating, but all we could doat this point was take the situation one day at a time.Despite continued health problems, I was excited tohave my avorite all pastime to look orward to:watching my beloved Boston Red Sox in the play-offs. Like most New Englanders, I’d spent much of my li e as a devoted, glutton- or-punishment, wait-until-next-year an. To ollow the Red Sox is to em-brace the teachings o the Buddha and the rst o the




20

Four Noble Truths: that life is inherently full of suf -ering. Each October as the playo s rolled around, Ihoped and I prayed; but in the end, the Sox alwayslet me down. The 86-year-old curse that had deniedthem a World Series title was still intact, and the allo 2004 seemed to be no di erent. As usual, theywere blowing it.

On October 16th, the Buddha’s wisdom rangespecially true, as things or Mollie and the entireRed Sox Nation went from bad to worse. Duringgame three o the American League Championship(a 19-8 thrashing of the Sox by the New York Yan -kees), Cara noticed that something was wrong withMollie—very wrong. Her tiny body was shaking as

she whimpered piti ul noises o distress. She’d beenquiet or days, but this episode was unlike anythingwe’d seen. A ter contacting a late-night emergencyclinic, we were soon in the car, exceeding the speedlimit to cut time rom our drive. Mollie’s motionlessbody now lay curled up on Cara’s lap as we prayedthe whole way there. It was obvious to us that herhealth, like that o her littermates, had been severelycompromised by starting her li e in such an unsani-tary environment.

A ter nally arriving and lling out the requiredpaperwork, the three o us went through the agoniz-



One Sick Puppy

21

ing process o waiting. It made no di erence wheth-er you were a bulldog lled with porcupine quillsor a little poodle puppy with the shakes; you hadto wait. Each passing moment elt like an hour. Tomake matters worse, the TV was on, rubbing the RedSox’s embarrassing loss in our ace. The next nightwould have them acing an elimination game—noteam had ever come back to win a playo series a terbeing down three games to one. “You guys suck,” I muttered under my breath. The lowly Red Sox werenow the least important thing in my li e, so I decid-ed to stop wasting my prayers on them and insteadturn my attention to Mollie. She needed it more.Only this time I was going to ask or a ull-blown

miracle. . . .A ter the vet gave Mollie a potentially li esaving

shot, her condition began to improve the very nextday. She was now on medication and starting to be-come more active, and that’s not all. As the weekwent on, it seemed that my prayer or a miracle hadbeen met with a gigantic, “Yes!” Apparently, Godwas no longer a New York Yankees fan—the “evilempire” was now in the midst o a momentous col-lapse. Night after night, with Mollie close by myside, we witnessed one magical moment a ter an-other as the Boston Red Sox completed the greatest




22

comeback in baseball history. It was unbelievable—they were going to the World Series! Sure, there wasstill the possibility that they could choke, causingme to dig out my “wait until next year” T-shirt, butat that moment I didn’t care. Li e was good. In ad-dition to Boston’s trip to the Fall Classic, Mollie wasacting more like a healthy, happy dog, and my al-lergy symptoms had all but disappeared. I asked orone miracle and had been given three.

A ter nearly a month o doctor visits, tests,emergency-room visits, and loads o stress (relatedto health and baseball), everything had come ullcircle. On Wednesday, October 27, 2004, Mollie andI shared an unprecedented moment in history—we

watched the Red Sox win the 100th World Series.With Mollie resting on my lap, I choked back tearswhile my avorite players danced on the stadiumeld. To some, it may seem silly or a grown man tocry over baseball, but my new our-legged best rienddidn’t seem to mind. Bending orward, I kissed thetop o her head and could only utter the words, “Wedid it, girl. We really did it.”



233

Acknowledgments

First and oremost, I want to thank my amazing,beauti ul (and extremely patient) wi e, Cara, or

always believing in me. I am truly grate ul or yourconstant love and support. Your heart and creativeinput can be ound on every page o this book, andit’s another reminder o why I love you so much.

My deepest gratitude to my amily and riendswho have been so encouraging and supportive whileI wrote this book: my mom, Patty; stepdad, Scott; myson, Alex; my editor and dear riend, October Craig;Lisa and Michael Hallahan; Kevin Cote; Mike Mc-Donald; Susan Mullen; Bill and Karen Auld; Shawn

Jarvis; Kris Wittenberg; Marie Ciccarone; John and

Marti Odle; Reverend Jan Hyrniewicz; and the won-der ul people at Union Church. Special thanks to

John, Mike, Heather, and Ann: your wisdom andpower ul stories have changed my li e.




234

A huge shout-out to Dr. Brion Reagor and theextra ordinary sta at Lucky Pet Animal Hospital:Mollie is truly lucky to have you! Woo !

To my amily at Hay House: thank you Reid Tracyor another opportunity to work with the world’s bestpublisher. To Patrick Gabrysiak, Shannon Littrell,and Christy Salinas . . . thank you or your ideasand talents. Also sending much love and gratitudeto my friend and mentor, Louise Hay. Your kindnesstoward me means more than you could ever know.

And to Mollie . . . my sweet, loving, beauti ul,and crazy girl: Your spirit is unlike any two- or four-legged creature this world has ever seen. Thank youor showing me the true meaning o love and devo-

tion and or choosing to be a part o our amily. Ilove you.

Most o all, I thank God or my amazing li e andthe reedom to live each day o the leash. I am trulyone lucky dog.



235

About the Author

M ichael J. Chase is an author, inspirationalspeaker, and student o spiritual wisdom, both

ancient and contemporary. Considered an expert onthe subjects o kindness and positive behavior, he isone o today’s most sought-a ter teachers in the eld

o personal and spiritual development. As oundero The Kindness Center, Michael, along with histeachings, is recognized across the globe. Whetherhe’s sharing his insights in a classroom, in a board-room, or onstage in ront o thousands o people,his power ul message impacts countless lives eachyear. Michael lives in Maine with his wi e, son, andbest friend Mollie. You can visit his website at www.michaeljchase.com .



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