When you put your hand in a flowing stream, you touch the last that has gone before and the first of what is still to come” ― Leonardo da Vinci
The bedroom was filled with light that morning, a slight breeze was moving the curtains of the window above his big double chair where he slept, a morning he would have loved. A rousing yawn a stretch of those long legs and the stretch, ahh the stretch head up, tail to the sky and looking for Momma dog. Out to his yard and another stretch, all the evening smells enticing him into his yard. The bed of hostas that he “watered” each morning are about to flower. The kitty is looking for his friend to join him. I want this beautiful boy to plunge his head into my lap, rub his beard and turn for those back tickles. The leg that would thump on the deck, the ears that needed a good rub…I daily touched the flowing stream.
Such a good boy, no demands, just living beside me. The car rides, the joy of going and arriving. His tall frame next to me in the passenger seat and that gaze that captured the other drivers busy with their day but drawn in by a big dog quietly inviting them into his world for a moment, a moment with him could change my day.
Grassy trails and soft turf paths were his favorite. His hound dog nose to the ground and the zigzag back and forth to grab every whiff. He was pure and sweet, honest, and generous.
When I was young and my dogs crossed over, I wept for the companion that hiked, biked, swam with me. The joyous creature that exceeded my athleticism but never left me behind. Now, in my older years the sorrow is profoundly different. It is the essence of this animal, his soul and gentle strength. How safe I felt with him, more than others he gave me a reflection of myself and how much better I could be. He was humble and gentle in accepting his new life. Bowls of food and water, a soft bed to sleep upon and a human that so loved him body and soul.
