I Want to be My Dog

But not just any dog. I want to be my dog Sailor, the best example of living well.

I want to greet each day with the smile of a two-year-old, in anticipation of nothing more than gazing into the eyes of a loved one. A magnetic look that sends love lasers through the air and holds the receiver captive.

I want to ride in the car with my head out the window capturing delicious aromas in nostrils spread wide, wind whipping hair across my face.

I want to race through head-high grass at a speed that exploits my muscles and my lungs in pursuit of a little ball that disappears into the landscape. Then I will snuffle through the brush, nose to the ground until it pops up like a Jack-in-the-box. Hope never flags. I search until I find it or die trying.

After that game, I want to flop down in my hidey-hole under the table and fall asleep immediately. I open my eyes every time my loved one stirs, but then return to sleepland when I am sure everything is secure.

I want the desire to meet everyone, curl my body around them and have them shriek with ecstasy when I plant a sloppy kiss on their mouth.

When I see a fence or something tall, I want to sail over it, kicking my heels high in pure delight. I want to show how fun it is to fly. When I see a flying ball, I am gone.

When the ocean breeze kicks up a good surf, I want to crash into the cresting wave, immune to its icy tongue that wraps my body. When I bound up from the water’s edge, I will drop the fetched ball and send my body twisting with such ferocity that I shower everyone near me and make them squeal. Then I’ll throw myself down and roll over and over in the sand, until I am a veritable coconut donut.

I will drink from the hose, curl up in the snow and plunge through muddy holes.

I will hear the news on TV only as a distant mumble of incomprehensible sounds. My loved ones have the voices I focus on. Other voices hold no significance. Everything outside of our world is of no consequence to me.

Every waking moment is fueled by zeal and contagious energy, as if this day were the last. I do not mark the days as days, minutes as minutes or years as years. I won’t measure myself to another. When someone gets upset at me, I duck my head temporarily, apologize quickly and get on with life. I will remember not to do that again, but forget my insurrection immediately. I am free from any weight of regret about the past or angst about the future. I live right in the middle of every second.

Money will be meaningless. My loved ones will be everything. I will have my priorities straight.

At day’s end, I will rest in my cave, sheltered in familiar security. I step across into sleep with the sound of my loved ones’ voices drifting into my subconscious and blending with my dreams. I am whole.