Ode To FurButt

The alarm goes off.

It’s early.

But she likes to get out there before the sun rises.

With sweats over pjs, I open the bedroom door.

She’s there.

Of course.

Tail wagging fiercely.

Of course.

Fiercely, in love.

With me.

I’m her Person, Husband says frequently.

I think he’s right.

During our day, she’s never more than a few feet away.

We don our winter gear.

Well, I do. She’s full of furry fur and, part husky, loves the snow.

She cannot wait to get out there.

I hesitate.

Me and cold, not a love affair.

Nevertheless, I push open the side door by the big tree and get pulled out into it, FurButt leading the way. I hate it.

For about ten steps.

By the time we’re down the driveway and heading up the street, I am breathing deeply and – true story – smiling. 

We travel the same exact route every morning.

Down the drive, across the street, down a bit and into the woods. Find the next street and head around the block, then just a bit more and we’re back home. One mile. 

The same trees.

The same potholes.

The same deer tracks.

The same puddles.

And yet.

She sniffs those same trees as if for the first time ever.

She leads me around those same potholes, glancing back over her leash to be sure I’m still with her.

She stops at those same deer tracks to munch on the poop.

And this is gross.

She splashes through the same puddles, rolls in the slush and snow with that tail wagging the whole time.

“FurButt, nothing here is a surprise. And yet, you approach every moment, every step along our stroll as if it’s the first time.” And we laugh. Well, I think she’s laughing. For sure, I am.

Like a kid.

She sees it all brand new every morning.

The excitement with which she experiences a simple walk around the block… has changed me. 

I have found myself seeing more lately.

Less looking, more seeing.

It’s magical.

If I had a tail, it’d be wagging.

Be here now. – Ram Dass

The power of now. – Eckhardt Tolle

Simplicity in being present.

(Though I think being present is not simple… for me. I’m yet remembering, becoming.)

Allowing.

Flowing.

Being.

Seeing.

FurButt, tail wagging, has opened me.

Reached in and showed me.

Just her breathing next to me makes me settle into my skin easier.

Her kisses are healing.

Deer-poop breath and all.

Writing Every Day Down.