I still think about my old dog, Sampson. He was a very large, quiet, black Lab with a white patch on his chest. He had those soulful brown eyes that made him seem like an old sage reborn even though he was as dumb as a sack of hammers. He wasn’t the type of dog who tried to figure out how to get the bone from underneath the couch, he just waited til you got it for him. We used to walk through Stanley Park (slowly cause he was a senior by the time we moved downtown) and often we would walk by the Aquarium when bus loads of school kids would empty out on the sidewalk eager to see whales.
I hated that when it happened. It just reminded me of what I didn’t have. Then Samps and I would walk a short trail, he’d chase a few squirrels and we’d go back home. During the last few months of his life, we’d just walk a short bit, then rest at a park bench and just take the world in. I’d remind myself of what I did have. I worked very hard on those walks I’d call ” gratitude” walks. Anyway, I’m just going down this road cause it’s fall, the school year has started and the streets are full of kids on their way to school in the mornings and on their way home late afternoon and I remember how it used to make me feel.
It’s surreal to be at this point in my life, a woman my age with a toddler at his first day of preschool. It’s like a crazy miracle. Well, maybe miracle is not the most accurate word. There was no supernatural element to any of it. There’s just this little boy trying to make his way in the world twice a week for a couple of hours. And me just trying to get to the gym and have a cup of coffee in peace. Crazy.