It's about the Moment ...

It’s not about the minnows, it’s about the moment.

“Did you catch anything Mox”? She looks up at me with those big eyes, her tongue fully extended, panting relentlessly. “Certainly not your breath”, I see. She trots over to the old tin bucket where she sloppily takes down what must be a gallon of water; unaffected by the fact that this water is filled with sweat, sand, and grass that needed to be removed from human feet before entering the cabin. She waits for the door to open, sneaks inside without having the decency to wash her own paws, and b-lines it to her spot on the living room futon. She’s out: exhausted, wet, sandy, muddy, perfect.

 Dogs, especially your dog, are perfect.

 Of all the seemingly infinite things that miss Moxy does of which I adore, trying to catch minnows along the shoreline at my parent’s cabin in Central City, Nebraska is my favorite. Have you ever tried to catch a minnow? It doesn’t matter if a minnow is flopping around on a dock, swimming in a bucket, or trapped in a seining net, catching a minnow, let alone getting it on a hook, is no easy task. So, it never surprised me every time I’d venture down to the shoreline and ask “did ya catch anything Mox”? she’d look up for a mere moment with a smile that screamed, are you crazy? Undeterred, she returns to her William Wallace like pacing along the shore. She’s unconditional.

 Dogs, especially your dog, are unconditional.

 Minute after minute, hour after hour, day after day, month after month, and year after year. There were no minnows for Moxy. She didn’t care and she was never deterred. For her it was never about the outcome of catching a minnow, it was about the pursuit. It was about the joy of being under the perfect Central City sun with cool paws, it was about the hope of achieving the unachievable, it was about the presence that comes with focus on a task that brings you complete satisfaction. Every single time she came up empty it was the same look. Happiness. It was the same look she gives me every time I’ve come up empty during the past 12 years as a dog owner, employee, dad, husband, son, or friend. Her love knows no end, it’s eternal.

Dogs, especially your dog, are eternal.

 When your veterinarian lets you know that your dog has, at most, thirty days to live it makes take that breath. You know the breath, the breath that somehow takes your breath away, but keeps you from crying in that moment. That dark thought that has existed in the back of my mind since first lick to cheek is now becoming a reality twelve years later. I’m human – I’ve cried and will continue to cry. But now, what I owe to her in the remaining days, is an unconditional disposition. I owe her the eternal love that allows me to view her soul and not her sickness. Viewing her not through human eyes but though the eyes of a dog. To live out her remaining days doing what we often fail to live as human beings, unconditional love. So, I’ll try my best to allow this moment to be beautifully etched in my mind forever to serve as a reminder that happiness is not about catching what you are chasing, it’s about the unwavering commitment to chase what’s worth chasing, because hope, like dogs, forever springs eternal.

 So, I wipe away the tears of this moment, not in sadness, but in satisfaction of experiencing  the eternal love only a dog can provide. It’s about this moment with Moxy, not the minnows.