After many years as an avered feline devotee, I have been blessed to discover the power of the canine species as companion, entrepid and inspiring explorer, and core of all that is ebullient in this life.
We have a small, powerfully built and somewhat rotund Pomerianian. No, he doesn't yap. Yes, he is spoiled, pampered and utterly adored by the entire family. Actually, pretty much the entire universe of people that come into contact with him immediately begin to coo inanely and pet him gently. In multiple countries.
My current locale is the Sylvia Hotel in Vancouver. Very basic and worn, in a friendly kind of way. We tend to stay here due to the proximity to Stanley Park and the Brass Monkey restaurant, to say nothing of the killer view of English Bay from our window. We're less than 50 feet from the beach and water, and paying extremely reasonable rates in a very expensive and cosmopolitan town.
Last time we were here, we got lost and hiked longer than anticipated through Stanley Park, over hill, dale and water feature (see the segments on Mother's DO Know Best on this blog). This time, the dog (who has a longer memory than one might anticipate) looked somewhat askance at Daddy when we started down the same seawall route, but trotted amiably along nonetheless.
I'm proud to report that the exercise seems to agree with him, and Doggle only needed a carry-through for about 1/2 mile of the total route. A short lunch break and (dog) nap ensued, then we all headed out of town to the Atkinson Lighthouse in West Vancouver; a wild and untamed region rife with hills, dales, rocks, beaches and an attractive off-leash policy.
He's just a little dog - short of leg and long of fur. But if we could package and distribute his general attitude and demeanor, the pharmeceutical antidepressant marketplace would completely collapse. Worried Mommy is convinced that he's going to tumble down a rock face into the teeming surf, or trip on a tree root and capapult into the dense undergrowth, never to be seen again.
Instead, I've discovered that fluffy bit of canine energy is more surefooted than a mountain goat. I exclaim at this discovery after watching him carefully choose personally appropriate paths in multiple types of terrain. My truly clever (and sometimes very funny) husband explain that KimKim comes with "four paw drive" - which gives him a leg (or two) up on us bipeds.
I begin to wish for four paw drive as I gasp my way to the top of another rise, and wonder how to kick it down a gear or two as the dog seems to do quite naturally, depending on the grade. I turn to watch him join us. Slowly, and with great nobility, he comes behind at his own pace; unhurried, unconcerned and completely in control of his experience.
Perhaps the nature of four paw drive should be included as a topic in Mr. Blake's meditation training process referenced in a former post. Who's to say we humans have it even half right? I know I could do with more ebullience and intrepid spirit. I think I'll just write Mr. Blake about the possibility!