Saturday, September 6, 2014
How I Wish We Were All More Like a Dog
Or how he is going to obtain them.
He is just as happy going for a drive in an old Chevy truck as a brand new Mercedes.
He doesn't worry about how many Facebook friends he has, who is on First, or how many calories there are in a bacon cheeseburger.
He doesn't care about your age, your weight, your tax bracket, your biological clock or what is on TV. He only knows that soon, the people he loves will be home.
On those days that I come home drained from a difficult day, tears in my eyes and the worry of ghosts in my soul, he simply lays his head on my knee and looks up, as if that moment is what he lived for. His tail will wag with a healing that humans can't always give.
If there is a ball to be thrown, he will abandon all restraint and give every fiber of himself, to reach that for which was before, only a dream; unmitigated glory.
His life is not deadlines, or deals or caring about the things that in all reality, will not matter at the end of a life.
All he cares about is how to bequeath that for which sustains him, in his too short life, his faith and his love, as he patiently waits.
There are days when I wish we were all, more like a dog.