Newfoundlands are marvelous at eye contact.

They peel up the folds of thick skin that hang perpetually in front of the lids and stare deep into your soul, their bodies frozen in time as they concentrate all of their energy and consistent forward motion into staring deep into your soul.

The Newfs choose this manner of communication because first, there is something so intimate about eye contact, so raw and pure and personal and effective; and secondly, because unlike in the extremely realistic dream I had last night, dogs can’t talk.

There are three things I have heard the Newfoundlands say to me: first, that there is a raging force of love that transcends language barriers, age gaps and species variations. Second, that there is much I have to learn about happiness from them. Third, that they would like me to please pet them, now please.

There’s much to say on the first topic, but for now I would like to capitalize on the lessons I have learned concerning the second.

There is happiness in a dog. You look into Betty’s eyes, Vlado’s face, Monty’s strange leaping run that he does when he’s feeling “positively frivolous”–his words, not mine–and you cannot help but be exposed to it.

From what I gather, the happiness of the Newfoundland is based on a threefold principle:

No expectations. Or at the least, very little.

They don’t expect you to feed them twice a day. But you do, and they are ecstatic about it, because any ideas of entitlement are entirely void. They don’t expect you to include them on your out-of-gate-experiences. But you do, you bring the leash and you invite them to join you in exploring the countryside. They don’t expect you to ever come back from a run, but you do, and when you do they surround you and thrust their black masses into your sweaty face and leave little black hairs all over your skin.

2. They’re not over-thinkers.

Dogs are extremely intelligent; more intelligent than we give them credit for. In fact, the light of my eyes, my own border collie Mackenzie, is my parent’s smartest child. No offense, brother mine.

But they don’t spend ages upon ages thinking about goals or about work or about life’s stresses. They don’t spend time contemplating life’s many mysteries or why we interact the way that we do.

They don’t over analyze the tricky practices of humanity like we do.

According to Mo Gawdat, author of Solve for Happy, the world’s most unhappy people are the thinkers.

I have the tendency to practice the art of “overthinking,” and these tendencies lead to my most unhappy times. I begin to question too much, to doubt too much, to lose security and to lose certainty.

3. They’re excited about everything.

The moment you peek your head up from under the thick warm covers, Flo comes bouncing on top of you, simply ecstatic that you are awake and she is awake and the world is awake and the birds are singing and it is simply a marvelous time to be alive!

Happiness, much like love, is something that transcends the human limitations we place upon so many things. It goes beyond borders, ages, heights, species…the forests exude happiness, the galls cry happiness, the water that we drink sings down our throats and tickles us with happiness.

Newfoundlands, the beautiful wonderful heathery Nature, getting to read and write and run so much…all of these things make me so so so happy. I am transfixed by the idea that I can make something as happy as it makes me.

And I think that is quite possibly how we make the world better.