Part VI: Sometimes Belonging Begins with a Wagging Tail.

Watch this! Our dog has spotted a four-legged friend in the distance. He freezes. Then his tail begins to spin. Slowly at first. Then faster and faster. Like the rotor of a tiny helicopter. My husband smiles. He unclips the leash. A split second later, our dog is off. A black Labrador comes racing towards him with exactly the same enthusiasm. They meet somewhere in the middle. A quick sniff. A joyful little dance. A short chase. A bit of play. And then…

…our dog naturally turns his attention to the Labrador’s owner. After all, he still has a few cuddles to collect. Because at home, he never gets cuddles. Obviously.

As so often happens, we start chatting. The lady is originally from Scotland. She now speaks excellent Swiss German. The Labrador belongs to her son, and every lunchtime she takes him for a walk.

It’s rather remarkable. By now, we know far more about this lovely woman than we do about some of the neighbours who have lived next door for years. And she is far from the only one. There are Asira’s humans. Lotti’s. Tony’s. Sometimes I think we know the people even better than the dogs. Or perhaps both.

I often wonder whether we would ever have met without our dog. Probably not. Ever since he joined our family, our social circle has quietly changed. Not by design. Not on purpose. It simply happened.

Years ago, many of my conversations revolved around strategy. Communication concepts. Crisis meetings. Business figures. Stakeholders. Shareholder value. Ad hoc disclosures. I was a colleague. A team member. A member of the executive board. A sparring partner. I belonged. To a team. To a company. To a shared purpose.

Today, my conversations are different. They are often about dogs. The nicest walking trails by the lake. The weather. Or the best dog treats in town. The topics have changed. The need behind them has not. I still seek connection. Curiosity. A smile. The comforting feeling of sharing, if only for a brief moment, the same little story.

Psychologists call this social belonging. It is one of our most fundamental human needs. We long to be part of a community. To feel that we belong. Not simply because of the conversations themselves. But because human encounters awaken something within us. Connection. Comfort. Trust. Our brains even reinforce these moments biochemically. One of the messengers involved is oxytocin, often called the “bonding hormone,” which helps strengthen social connections. Perhaps that’s why even a few friendly words exchanged during a walk can sometimes mean far more than they appear to.

Maybe this is also why unemployment hurts so deeply. Not only because the work itself disappears. But because an entire social world suddenly fades away. The people you spend your days with. The projects you build together. The quiet certainty that someone is expecting you each morning. The feeling of working towards something as part of a team.

I think it’s perfectly natural to miss that for a while. I certainly did. The coffee machine. The conversations. The simple feeling of belonging somewhere without having to think about it.

Then, one day, I noticed something. While I kept looking at everything that was gone, I almost overlooked what had remained. A conversation with another dog owner. A friendly chat with a neighbour. A long phone call with a friend. Lunch with my mother. A walk with my husband. Belonging hadn’t disappeared. It had simply taken on a different shape.

By now, our dog is happily trotting alongside us again. He has successfully collected his cuddles. Mission accomplished. He knows exactly where home is. And yet, he still delights in every friendly encounter along the way.

Perhaps we humans can learn something from him. Perhaps throughout our lives we belong to many different circles. Some stay with us for years. Others only for a season. Some we leave by choice. Others we lose. And sometimes, new ones appear before we have even gone looking for them.It’s remarkable how quickly we notice what is missing. And how long it sometimes takes us to see what has remained.