There are secrets in life; secrets known only to a very few, and passed on from one person to the next in a code known as the written word. Those who have looked into such things, those who seek to know what it is that sets one person apart from another when it comes to success and happiness in life, discovered this secret — and others — long ago. Searching for answers about life’s winners and losers, they began seeing patterns; common denominators, if you will. These patterns became obvious to those who understood them and, in time, they even became predictable.

Not all of it was psychology on their part. Much of it was common sense based on powers of observation and by measuring the results of a man or woman’s life work. They wrote down their observations and theories. They wrote them down for all to see, so that others could apply these principles to their own lives. Some did, some didn’t.

The choice, of course, was theirs, as it is and should always be in a free society. But, as time went by, and as more and more people followed the pack and looked for easy ways to slide through life, or gather information, the pages that held those secrets became brittle and the writings began to fade. Searching for answers isn’t easy. It requires thought, concentration and other forms of effort. Finding answers is hard work. It’s also how we grow. The fields are plowed, the seeds are planted and the crops spring forth.

Through my work as an artist and a writer these many years, I’ve met a lot of dog lovers. As I listen to your stories of victory and woe at book signings, dog shows and art exhibits, I, too, search for answers to life’s mysteries. Why does one man have wonderful health, I ask myself, while the next man is struggling for every breath? Why does one woman seem to go through life as if she doesn’t have a care in the world, smiling everywhere she goes? And the next woman radiates anger.

When we’re gone, the world remembers what we did with our lives, what we accomplished, what we left behind. It doesn’t really care who we loved, who we hated or who we owed money to. It cares if we left things better or worse than when we started. That being said, some people think we come into this life already programmed for happiness or desolation and there’s nothing we can do to change our fate. I’m not sure if that’s true — or if I want to believe it. Instead, I’d rather stick with what I know, and (From many years of being part of the dog loving community) what I know is this: People who love dogs come in all shapes, sizes, colors and circumstances, just like the breeds they favor. They’ve made their own way through life and, along the way; they’ve discovered a few secrets of their own.

In the months ahead, let’s take a look at people who have made a difference. My guess is, like us, they were dog lovers, too. What I know for sure is: They were producers in spite of everything…

Frederic Schiller, the poet, lost his health at thirty and during his remaining fifteen years, packed his life with more intellectual achievement than any other man of his time. Weak, in pain, one lung adhering to his chest wall, no more shoulders than a banana, he worked fourteen or more hours a day.

His constant companions were his wife, Charlotte, and suffering. Yet, he wrote not merely reams of poetry but reams of happy poetry. No one who reads his Hymn to Joy can imagine that it was written by a man in agony. The agony was of his body, not his spirit.

He stayed up late nights to do his writing, stealing from his sleep because well-wishing friends and admirers interrupted him during the day. This made his health worse, but he was determined to get things done regardless of the consequences.

Like Schiller, Thomas Carlysle worked against physical suffering. Unlike the poet, however, his work was filled with almost unparalleled bitterness. Carlysle scolded and bickered with his wife. His breath drew flies. He had a picklish disposition and point of view but was heroic in the way he got things done against chronic ill health and indigestion. Experts may say that his habitual fault-finding and brow-beating may have been a cause for his ill health. But, give the “Sage of Chelsea” full credit for the more than twenty large volumes he produced.

The lilting music of Pinafore must have been written by a happy, carefree soul. It was written by Sir Arthur Sullivan while he was in torment from kidney stones. His pain, day and night, did not keep him from getting things done. He made the pain more endurable by creating frolicsome music, not a dirge.

Finding their way through great personal suffering, these creative people left the world treasures we remember to this day. I like to think they were dog lovers, like us. Don’t you? I like to think they went about their lives, knowing the secret of getting things done no matter what’s going on around us, no matter what is thrown in our way… Life is a mystery that none of us fully understand. But — no matter what — birds will sing…squirrels will play in the trees…and dogs will be loved.

Author’s Note: Special thanks to Donald A. Laird and Eleanor C. Laird for excerpts from their book, The Technique of Getting Things Done.