pup
She lies on her back with paws curled haphazardly as she sleeps her mid-morning away. Barbara, aka “Babs” is the remaining pup from the litter of Golden Retrievers born from Gracie on June 16. She remains in her birth home until her family (my son, his wife, and his daughter) comes to take her to be theirs in mid-September. In the meanwhile, she is learning how to be an obedient and trustworthy house pet. Gracie has made that challenging at times when outside with Babs pouncing on her, tripping her, and at times flipping her with her nose. The pup is adapting well to being “crate” trained for her early months of development and is learning to sleep through the night without needing attention. Her routine is fast becoming familiar which gives her a strong sense of security in the presence of this world into which she has been born. She, like we who identify as human, thrives in a place of security. Yet, maturity is achieved in its broadest sense when life is lived knowing that security is not a physical place but rather an inward acknowledgement that all is believed to be well. Volumes could be written about the subject of acquiring, experiencing or losing the sense of security, but for now Babs has this “maturing” participant with Parkinson’s leading her in the lessons of a secure life. Teaching her requires discovering how she learns and applying her lessons in her way. Gratitude rules the day when success has been found in teaching her that way!
In the dark morning glow before the sun appeared, I spotted the two ears sprouting from the darkened orb just down the hill. Five yards further was another orb seemingly without the prominent ears. As I questioned myself whether they could be rabbits, they both leapt frantically toward the safety of the brush as Gracie the Golden Retriever sprinted in hot pursuit. A call into the rustling darkness brought the panting pup back as we concluded her morning escapade. Gulps of water from her refreshed bowl preceded her now eager chomping of the fresh morning morsels awaiting her consumption. With satiated pet now sprawled leisurely at my feet, I whisper words of thankfulness for the opportunity of another day. With agenda yet to be unfurled, a bountiful heart of gratitude awaits its arrival. Stiffness and aches have taken their place among the stones that support the foundation of this dwelling that is dedicated to living in the space of grace that has been given. No matter the weather, a beautiful day is on the horizon!
Two dark eyes peering from the golden tan head attached to a frantically wagging posterior signal to me a desire to play. Soon, the ball is dropped beside my reclining seat as if saying; “let’s get this going.” Ice covered snow outside precludes a romp in the yard lest there be a furry orb sliding with protest down the hill. Ball in hand and panting pup poised to pounce, the object of retrieval is tossed toward the back door. Scurrying down the hallway and sliding head bound toward the closed and resistant door, her majesty pounced adeptly on top of the ball. A tip tap of toenails along the hallway preceded her return with the orb as she reluctantly gave it up for another pounce down the hallway. The routine repeats itself until all are satisfied that sufficient rounds have been accomplished on this cold winter’s day at the farm. With sun now shining and fire burning briskly, both participants in the fetching game can now settle down to catch the latest news. Filled with thanks for sun and warmth, we are embraced with gratitude for the end of the storm and the beginning of the coming thaw. Thanks is the thread that weaves the warm blanket of gratitude that wraps a grace filled heart!