What Does a Dog Really Want? A Powerful Lesson About the Search for Meaning

My neighbor has a dog who is absolutely obsessed with running away from home. It seems that escaping is his entire mission in life. He barks, scratches at the gate, whines, and somehow, always manages to break free in clever, unexpected ways.

In that moment of escape, he’s ecstatic—running, jumping, wagging his tail, barking joyfully. The image of pure happiness! After a little while however, the excitement fades and I'll find him wandering the streets, scared, and looking downcast with his tail tucked between his legs. When I bring him back home, he's thrilled again—jumping, wagging his tail, and back to himself.

While watching him one day, it struck me how my teenage years felt just like that dog’s journey. As a kid, I always wanted to grow up fast. In school, I looked for any chance to escape, and in the army, we’d count the days until it was over. Finally, the moment came, the gates of structure opened, and I broke free with excitement! I was finally out of the system, free to do whatever I wanted, with nobody telling me what to do.

However, soon after, just like that dog, I began to feel the emptiness and sadness crept in. I tried to fill it with “the pleasures of life”, parties, bar nights, and hanging out with friends. I tried college but that didn't speak to me. Eventually I gave up nearly 90% of my life, and all the money I didn’t even have, for a job I didn’t really care about.

Then I discovered Torah. I started learning, exploring, observing some mitzvot, and little by little, I realized it was this that gave me meaning and vitality. It was a way of life that awakened me, expanded me, and uncovered a depth of living I never knew existed. It felt like drinking cold water in the middle of a desert.

These days, I meet all kinds of people, especially friends who’ve been through a similar path. Some discover the truth and act on it right away. Some reach that turning point at 20, others not until 40, and they’re still trying to make changes bit by bit, because the pull of the world is strong.

I meet these people in Tel Aviv. They may not wear a kippah. Some have tattoos. Some wear business suits and have greying hair. When they see me—visibly religious—they let their inner light show. One lifts his shirt and reveals tzitzit. Another pulls a kippah out of his pocket. They share thoughts on the weekly Torah portion, stories of how they keep Shabbat, and personal miracles they’ve experienced. They strengthen me with their stories.

One of the signs of the coming of the Messiah, according to the Sages, is that “the face of the generation will be like the face of a dog.” Just like that dog who ran away from home, excited at first, but eventually confused, scared, and searching.

In my opinion, no matter what kind of Jew you see—how they dress, how they speak, or how they present themselves—deep inside, there’s an incredible thirst for Torah and for spiritual meaning. You can help bring them closer, not by lecturing or criticizing, but with sweet words of Torah and personal example. Become a source they’ll feel safe approaching when they need it most, like a lost child looking for a way home.

We all want to come home and return to our Creator.