To Run Unfettered

Image found at: www.costumedogs.comSitting at my writing desk I heard the sound of my writing assistant enter the room. The sound of her four paws clicking across the floor is unmistakable.

Watching her, my happy expression quickly changed. My Boxer dropped her head, stared at her soft bed, then threw her body onto the floor. Not the bed, the floor. I grumbled, the way dog owners do, “Why the hell do I buy these nice beds if you don’t sleep on them?” She glanced over her shoulder at me, yawned, then let her head fall back onto the floor with a thud. She really doesn’t care what I think. She knows she’s ‘grandfathered in.’ Her fate is safe in my hands. So she lives without guidelines or restraint.

Boxer’s must feel their chins are heavy. I’ve come to this conclusion only because she is the only dog I’ve ever known that needs to rest her chin on tables, arms of chairs, bent knees, or any other such horizontal surface. She isn’t relaxing; I know this as she’s standing. One time while riding in the back of my Jeep she rested her chin on the top of my daughter’s head who was in the seat in front of her.

She has no shame in showing her excitement when visitors arrive. I think I’m going to start doing the same. The next time a friend arrives at my door I need to dance with excitement, hug them profusely, then latch to their side, all the while giving them a soft look of adoration. At the very least my efforts should earn a good rub down; that being what my Boxer receives.

And just like my Boxer, when I eat I think I’ll start picking through my food, leaving bits and pieces strewn across the floor. There will be no real rhyme or reason as to what I will eat and what I will spit off to the side. I think this approach will be good for me. A good change. And I plan to leave those hard nuggets all around, so those without shoes can find them later.

When I venture outside I’m going to run as if chased. I will run with force and strength without any real direction. When I’m done I’ll come sliding into the house and snort at everyone. It seems to work for my Boxer, so it should work for me. It might help remind me I’m alive. To be alive, I should probably act alive. I often forget that.

I want that kind of unbridled joy and zeal. She also howls for no apparent reason. I want to howl for no apparent reason. I never have, and doubt I ever will, but the idea sounds liberating. She doesn’t care that everyone looks at her as if she’s lost her mind. She knows one doesn’t have to act sane, to be sane. All she knows is she felt like howling – so she howled. Life should be so simple. It’s an overdone theory: that we should take lessons from our dogs. Yet, regardless of how often its said, it still remains true. Analyze less. Live more, and do so – unfettered.

Sane

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