Tag: pets

40 Lenten Reflections #6 – a daily raw recollection during the Lenten Season

Ever since I was young, I’ve pined for the feeling of safety. The warmth and security a robin feels when it buries its head under its wing to stave off the bitter cold. I crave comfort and abhor fear. I was once told (yes, by a therapist), that my personal tendency is to place myself in situations that are not safe because I yearn to conquer this panic. Moving to DC on my own, running at night, living in India where I traveled alone, and sleeping on the beach in Mexico by myself (with several mosquitos). These were all experiences I chose to help strengthen my being, or so I thought. Then one cold day in January 1994, a jet-black puppy with ears as soft as satin, spirited eyes, and a gentle soul found me and pledged to keep me safe. It was a non-verbal promise, but as soon as we became family, a sense of relief, happiness, and belonging ensued.

Now it was me and Misty living in DC running at night, together. In a sense, she carried me through adulthood and gave me the courage to try things that were new, daring, and at times not too bright. She’d wait for me in the car at night if I had to run to the store, she’d linger for hours while I worked double shifts and was ready to jump in the car at 3:00 am so we could find a parking space across the street at “the far lot” and we’d run back together. She caught my tears, listened when I had to talk, and sat next to me while I went for a drive, ears flapping in the wind.

I’ve been on a lot of walks and runs in my life. Some with friends with whom you share your latest triumphs or queries; others with family where you talk about growing up, religion, or maybe even politics – if you’re careful. Being outside with someone – or alone, whether walking or running is a time when a bond is formed.  After running with Misty, my brain always thought more clearly, and my soul felt more alive.  She ran with me, ahead of me, next to me, jumped in Rock Creek, and powered up the rocks back on the trail to finish our run. I was always leery to let her run off-leash thinking she’d decide to really catch the squirrel this time — once I even thought I’d lost her, but on that snowy day in Maryland, she was out running with deer in a field as happy as could be.  She saw me and came right back.  The elation she showed when flying down a hill, herding another dog during a game of fetch, or jumping in the water, was priceless. Had I restricted her, she would have missed out on all of those moments dogs need to thrive and be alive.

Then, when Misty was 17, I had to let her off her leash, literally and figuratively. My running partner needed to rest. As mournful as it was, it was the right thing to do. Our children were five, seven, and eight years old then and were very attached to her, so we went to the backyard and spent a few minutes with Misty before we took her to the vet. The breeze was strong that Saturday in February as we all prayed, cried, and gazed into her eyes one last time.

What I learned:

“Having a good dog is the closest some of us are ever going to come to knowing the direct love of a mother or God.” —Anne Lamott, Small Victories

Misty was a good one.

Thank you for joining me,

Lucretia

Please pray for the Pope.