My Dog Is A Mirror

I was out with Chewy walking in the sun and it really was so beautiful, even with the bloody cold wind, it was still beautiful, and my body felt strong and moving, I was running with him in the snow, and he was very happy, of course. Such freedom. 


I thought, my dog is a mirror for all that I long for: go ahead, sniff that, jump in, go to the edge, dig in, run, chew on tree branches, play, be joyful. Okay, well, maybe not chew on branches. But I sure can gnaw on things for a long time. Years? Even the way he gets all whimpering and staring out the window reminds me of me. Like there's something out there; we'd better check it out. 


So I've vowed to stop yelling at him when he is being his dog-self, to have more compassion and understanding for his wanderlust and joie de vivre. He gets so caught up in happy thoughts, he can't always hear what I'm saying. Anyway, maybe this will translate into me not being so hard on my *wobbly person-self.

The final sweetness was when we were getting in the car. I saw the two eagles, their white heads so clearly visible through the trees. I was too far away to get a picture so I sat quietly and watched them glide over the creek.


Surely, it was a sign.


*read: A Bit Wobbly (Jan. 12, 2011)