I've been sitting here for nearly two hours, paws at the keyboard, trying to decide what to write. This is highly unusual for me. Writer's block just isn't part of my life. After all, the sooner I finish my work, the sooner I get to eat, play and sleep … and that's all the incentive a dog needs!

Today, however, I just cannot seem to rise to the occasion. I know exactly what's wrong with me. It's just that I don't really want to write about it. It isn't a happy topic or an educational topic. It isn't timely in the broad sense of current affairs. Yet, I cannot seem to focus on anything else. And I guess that, as a columnist, when something is speaking this loudly, one must write about it.

My people lost someone they cared about a few days ago. Out of respect for his privacy and since I cannot ask if he would mind if I used his name, I will refrain from using it. I will say that he did not live in Middleburg or our neighboring towns.

He was important to my people personally and professionally. He was a stellar person: kind, highly accomplished in his field, humble, and a gentleman in every sense. He was a loving father of young children, a devoted husband and a great dog dad.

Last Thursday morning, he died quite suddenly and unexpectedly of a heart attack. He was just 44 years old. His friends and family are in shock.

At times like this, everything is put into crystal clear perspective. Life is precious, but we so often forget that. Maybe it's necessary that we forget it because if we focused on the fragility of our time here, we wouldn't be able to get through our days. Maybe it's healthy to get irritated over little things. Maybe it's therapeutic to focus on daily obligations and chores. Maybe it's good to live with such optimism that we disparage this hard winter and wish it away. Maybe it's healthy to put off today what we could do tomorrow. Maybe living with the certainty of tomorrow is what gets us through.

Right now, however, all I can see is that my people – and so many others who cared about their friend – are deeply sad and shaken. To all of them, life seems just a little more precarious at the moment. And the normal frustrations of the day seem wholly unimportant.

Knowing this, I decided now might be a good time to offer some advice from the canine world. I cannot claim that this is original, as I did not write it. But I can tell you that it is excellent advice worth repeating to those of you who have heard it. And worth offering to those of you who have not.

As my people were reminded this week, life is very, very short and unpredictable. Every day is a gift and we should all consciously remember that. The following "dog lessons for people" can help everyone live a life that is more fulfilling and kind:

Love unconditionally.
Enjoy the simple pleasures of a walk.
Follow your instincts.
Be loyal and faithful.
Always drink plenty of water.
Know that sometimes it is best to just sit close and listen.
Be quick to forgive.
Avoid biting when a growl will do.
Keep digging until you find what you want.
Run and play daily.
Accept all of life's treats with gratitude.

My family's friend lived his life this way. In doing so, he left a legacy worthy of admiration. His life made a difference to all who knew him. And, if all of us live our lives in similar fashion, we can all matter greatly not only while we are here, but long after we are gone.

I will end this with one more lesson from the canine world. It is attributed to West Paw Design and these four words say it all: Wag more. Bark less.