Lessons from My Dog: Aches and Pains Need Not Keep Me from My Goal
Sam has been doing his best to teach me lessons for his entire life. For example, if I take his toy when he's playing with it and throw it across the house, he taught me that I have to go pick it up. After some missed deadlines, he also taught me exactly how long I have between his first bark and my groggy stumble out of bed in order to avoid cleaning a mess off my carpet. He's taught me so many things that I finally decided it's time to write them down, because knowledge not shared may as well not be known in the first place.
Today's Lesson: If the spirit is willing, the body will find a way.
This morning, Sam was just minding his own business, sniffing around the base of a tree, when he noticed somebody's lost 7-11 taquito only a few feet away, and he got that pep in his step that can only come from the potential for food. The problem? His target was just a few feet away, butmaybe 18 inches below him, on the paving stones on the other side of a ledge. I tried to talk sense into him and gave his leash a small tug (too strong and he'd topple over), but he would not listen to sense. He barreled forward and, without hesitation, leapt off the ledge.
His plunge ended in an undignified splat as his arthritic old joints proved no match for his emotional commitment to eating that taquito. I knelt down to scratch between his ears and reassure him that he was okay, but that may have been completely unnecessary. He pulled himself to his feet before the words were out of my mouth and continued his quest. I hope he savored every morsel of that taquito. I did not savor every moment I spent cleaning up the digestive upset caused by this particular indiscretion.
Sam's spirit and heart are strong (heart murmur notwithstanding) but his body is nowhere near its former strength. He takes lots of drugs, morning and night, to keep himself going, and he's never shown even the slightest indication of wanting to back off of his daily activities. Meanwhile, I get a migraine and take to my bed for a day. Humans and dogs have different concepts of pain, and he has the added benefit of getting to nap on a therapeutic bed all day, but I think I've finally gotten the message. My physical infirmities need not get me down. If my spirit is as strong as my dog's, I will get back up when my body fails me and I'll find another way to reach my goal. And maybe, just maybe, I'll listen when humans offer advice on how to proceed.
