I've been thinking a lot about our upcoming retreat lately. For me this prep isn't something I do very well sitting in an office. The best prep times are usually when I'm taking my dog for a long walk or hike. There are a couple of places not too far away where I can let him off the leash to run through high grass and chase critters. Blizzard comes alive when he gets off the leash. He's a herding dog (Ausie) who can corner quickly and bounce above the highest grass as he runs, almost like a jack rabbit. With keen eyesight and hearing, he's always exploring, looking, searching.
Last weekend Ana and I went for a hike in Forrest Park just before dark. It was starting to rain and hardly anyone was left on the trails as we got away from the roads. Though Ana reminded me of the leash law, I had to let Blizzard off. On the leash, he walks with his head down and stays on the trail, peeing here, sniffing there. Ears at rest. But when I slip the leash up around his head and it falls free, he transforms. The ears perk up, the head lifts, the nose twitches with curiosity. Off he goes, never on the trail. Not long ago, he spotted a coyote and took off after it. Fortunately it must not have been the coyote's main territory, for he ran and seemed to disappear like mist in the trees. Blizzard returned with unbridled doggy joy all over his face. Adventure! I watched life flow back into him from some secret place. Somewhere a spigot opens and purpose, life, joy flow into him.
Perhaps it's a stretch, but I have this feeling that, when the leash is off, he's seeking a lost sheep or goat to rescue and bring back home. As if, somewhere deep in his DNA, in his inner being, there's this compelling voice that says, "Arise! You were made for a purpose. You were created for an adventure far greater than a leash on a well-worn trail."
Ana says I project my feelings onto my dog.
I wonder. . . . nah.
- Curtis
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