Duncan's wisdom came through on a day when I needed it the most, a windy day that looked more like early Autumn than August, with a restless blue sky, as pale and close as veins just under the skin, with bright rays of gold shining through the dancing boughs and branches, the kind of day that looks as though it's best experienced from the calm side of a window but needs to be walked through and lived in.
He knew what I needed when I couldn't find it myself so he led me to the park where a branch had broken free of its tree, forgotten and discarded on the grass. He lifted it up and pulled it to a spot that suited him and managed it in the only way he knows how, one bite at a time, and in so doing told me everything I needed to navigate the anxiety that had claimed me and threatened to render all my hard work useless.
I would be lost without him, adrift like the leaves cascading down and swept across the unending fields.
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Somewhere there, in between the lines of "While Walking Duncan" there is another outpost lurking entitled, "While Walking Curt" which is accessible only to dogs. It is all about a dog and the two-legger who gave him a family, saved his life and who enfolds him in love. It is filled with accounts of his friend's wisdom and generosity and recounts the sharing of life's joys and struggles. It is about learning. And faithfulness. And unquestioned love. Good Duncan! Good Curt!
Thank you, David.
Indeed, there is at least one really good book in Duncan.
I watched the video. Please tell me that Duncan did NOT eat that entire tree he dragged out to munch on.
Yesterday evening, we were sitting out by the pool with the houseguests, and Darwin was with us, chewing a raw bone. He was so good, just lying there, focused on that bone to the exclusion of all else. That bone, right then, was the most important thing in the world, and he was giving it his full attention. I should probably do that more, only without the bone.
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