From My Journal: The Book of Delights

Walking Dunc.

And all the things I do on those walks. Even those things I dislike about them. Like in winter, when it takes much longer to don my jacket and coat, my boots and gloves and cap, to put the treats in one pocket and the bags in the other. And then there’s the leash and the slow, unsteady and unsure decent down the stairs, ever fearful of him slipping or just stopping. Those things are exhausting, but are outnumbered by our time together, mostly alone out in the world, but sometimes with others. It is through Roo that I have met all these people, that I have raised my army of dogs. It is through Roo that I have learned the intense joy of kicking a rock off the sidewalk and back into its rightful place in the beds that ring these barn-colored buildings. It is through Roo that I have spent hours stepping on the lip of an overhang of ice to delight in the joy of hearing it crack and give and break and settle. It is through Roo that the sun has warmed my face and blinded my eyes and browned my arms. It is through Roo that I have hurried to keep up with him, watcheing that rotor of a tail spin wildly as he runs ahead of me, and now, in his older years, to walk beside him as old friends do. It is through Roo that I have walked away my struggles and fears and anxiety, learning and being reminded that each step forward is exactly that--a step forward. It is through Roo that I remember I am still alive.

I have spent more hours than I will ever know describing our walks in print and conversation, reliving them, pondering them and their lessons, looking forward to them. But all that time pales in comparison to the time and miles spent out there in the world actually with him. He is my soulmate, my moonbeam sunshine best friend brother. I have been very very lost, and being with him is to forever be found.