JOE’S FIRST WALK
Joe’s first walk outside happens later in life than it does for most puppies, because Joe had parvovirus, which is very contagious. Finally, at four months old, Joe is ready to venture out in the world and be confident he will not pass on the virus to anybody else.
Joe has waited a long time for his first walk, and he’s excited. It’s a good day for a walk. A spring day. Sunny, Joe thinks, remembering the word from a book. Breezy.
We read a lot of books together while Joe had parvovirus. He’s seen pictures of the world and heard what names we call them. But today, Joe learns that it is very different to experience things in real life. Especially for the first time.
We don’t go far, but Joe is in awe. Every single thing he sees on this walk, he sees for the very first time. Smells for the first time. Hears, touches, and tastes for the first time.
An airplane overhead, an inchworm on the sidewalk. The scent of newly mown grass, the taste of a fallen leaf. The sound of hummingbird’s wings, a tiny drumbeat. The color of endless sky on a spring day. A monarch fresh from its cocoon stretching orange and black wings in the afternoon sun.
“Flutterbye,” Joe thinks.
That night, Joe tries to stay awake. He wants to replay all the pictures in his mind from his incredible day and remember the words for them, but he can’t.
“Is the word butterfly or flutterbye?” he wonders.
But he doesn’t wonder for long. Joe’s too comfy in front of the fireplace to stay awake, too sleepy from the amazing adventure of his day. And, he realizes, he needs his rest. Because tomorrow is a new day, a new world, and a new walk.
SUNDAY NIGHT WITH JOE
On Sunday nights before he falls asleep, Joe likes to say thank you.
Tonight, as he settles in front of the fireplace, Joe detects a scent of sagebrush on his fur, a reminder of his walk that afternoon. It was a wonderful walk.
The walk is one he’s done a thousand times. Joe knows every scent there is to find under every rock and around every corner. Knows the topography, the route. Knows the sights, sounds, and smells. They’re the same, familiar. Comforting.
Some might get bored of the same old thing and want something different, new, and exciting, but Joe doesn’t. Life doesn’t bore him.
Everything is always different, new, and exciting. Constantly new, constantly changing. Life is change. Change is miraculous. Life is miraculous.
When your same-old afternoon walk is a miracle, Joe realizes, you’re happy. He’s happy. He loves spending time wherever he is because he’s in awe of the world. That’s really something to be grateful for.
As he falls asleep, Joe is thankful that today, he figured out that life is a miracle.
JOE SITS DOWN
The snow is a storm today, adding three inches every hour to the already towering snowbanks blanketing the world.
But in rain or shine or whiteouts of snowfall, Joe takes a walk every day. He loves to be outdoors. Air is different outside than in. The smells are different, sounds are different. Life feels different. Better, usually, in Joe’s opinion.
At the stream he usually crosses with ease, stepping on a trio of boulders to avoid the icy water, Joe stops. The boulders are shiny today, slick with a layer of ice he’s never seen before. Never felt before. What was familiar yesterday is not familiar today. It’s new. It’s unknown, and Joe doesn’t know what to do.
So Joe sits down.
In his comfortable seat in the snow beside the stream, under a canopy of Douglas firs and sugar pines, Joe takes time to watch. Takes time to think. Takes his time, sitting in stillness.
All around him, as he sits, the world changes. Fir branches overhead creak under the weight of snow. A single crow sails overhead, and Joe can hear the air in its wing feathers. From the clouds in the sky, the sun breaks through, and Joe watches light dance on a million snowflakes, on the surface of the stream, and on three ice-covered boulders.
He watches a long time, but Joe’s not paying attention to time right now. There’s no need to hurry and nowhere to go, because there’s no better place to be.
Dazzled by all that is going on in the world around him, Joe sits until the sun sinks low in the sky and shadows stretch long over a world of snow. The sun has done its job for the day. Warming Joe’s fur, lighting up the pine forest. Dancing on the water in the stream and melting the ice on the boulders.
Thoroughly content from his action-packed day, Joe steps sure-footed across his bridge of three boulders to cross the stream and heads back home, where he’ll take a nap and dream of the sound of crow’s wings. Stillness, Joe realizes, is a gift.
I’LL BE BACK, JOE
It’s hard when I leave for work.
Joe sits by the door, eyes asking me to stay. Asking me not to leave him all by himself for a cloud of hours that he can’t count and worries about how to fill.
But I have to go; I have to work. Before I leave, I tell him, “I’ll be back, Joe.”
And then, he’s on his own. He wants to believe me, wants to trust that in a little while, I’ll be back with a treat and a cuddle, with his dinner and a spot at the foot of my bed where he can dream. He wants to believe me, but it’s hard. It’s hard to trust.
Pacing helps, at first. Joe paces the bedroom, living room, kitchen. Checks the water supply in his bowl. Ventures out the dog door to the lawn to make sure he has freedom to do his business.
But then he’s back inside, sprawled on the carpet under the window where sunshine warms his fur. But he can’t help worrying that I might not come back. That he might be on his own forever.
It’s terrible, this feeling of worrying about what might happen, and Joe wants it to go away. He claws at his ears. Scratches at his ribcage. Gets up, paces the room. But it won’t leave him, this fear.
Fear sticks to his fur, a shadow following his steps. Like a raincloud, it darkens every moment of the day. Joe doesn’t like this feeling, but he can’t shake it. Barking doesn’t get rid of it any more than chewing on a corner of the couch.
There’s no running from it, this fear of what might happen in the future. He can’t run from it. All he can do is lie down and be with it. Sit with the fear. Breathe it in and out.
So he does. And he’s surprised to find that with every breath, the fear does not escalate. Instead, it starts to go away. Every exhale makes everything lighter. Every exhale brings with it a feeling of peace.
Peace. That’s what we all want, Joe thinks. Peace.
Suddenly sleepy, Joe closes his eyes, feeling the sunshine from the window warm his fur. He feels peace. Somehow, he knows that I’ll wake him up soon, because I’ll be back, Joe.