To Run Unfettered

"Whether in pain or in joy, I have to write. I would need to live four life times to publish all that is within me. Yes the masterpiece is sitting off to the side, but the fact remains, I need to write. So here it is. Enjoy." ~ Sane

Sitting at my writing desk I heard the sound of my assistant enter the room. The sound of her four paws clicking across the floor is unmistakable. 

Watching her, my face quickly showed signs of consternation. My Boxer dropped her head, stared at her soft bed, then threw her body onto the floor. Not the bed, the floor. I grumbled, the way dog owners do, “Why the hell do I buy you these nice beds if you don’t sleep on them?” She glanced over her shoulder at me, yawned then let her head fall back onto the floor with a thud. She really doesn’t care what I think. She knows she’s ‘grandfathered in.’ Her fate is safe in my hands. So she lives without guidelines or restraint.

Boxer’s must feel their chins are heavy. I’ve come to this conclusion only because she is the only dog I’ve ever known that needs to rest her chin on tables, arms of chairs, bent knees, or any other such stable surface. She isn’t relaxing; I know this as she’s standing. One time while riding in the back of my Jeep she rested her chin on the top of my daughter’s head who was in the seat in front of her; much to my daughters surprise.

She has no shame in showing her excitement when visitors arrive. I think I’m going to start doing the same. The next time a friend arrives at my door I need to dance with excitement, hug them profusely, then latch to their side all the while giving them a soft look of adoration. At the very least I should get a good rub down out of the overt display. That being what my Boxer receives. Apparently being a gracious hostess doesn’t offer the same pay-off. Because I’d remember receiving such a rub down as the one’s she so often gets.

When I eat I think I’ll start picking through my food, leaving bits and pieces strewn across the floor. There will be no real rhyme or reason as to what I will eat and what I will spit off to the side. I think this approach will be good for me. A good change. And I plan to leave those nuggets everywhere so those without shoes can find them later.

When I venture outside I’m going to run as if chased. I will run with force and strength without any real direction. When I’m done I’ll come sliding into the house and snort at everyone. It seems to work for my Boxer, so it should work for me. It might help remind me I’m alive.

I want that kind of unbridled joy and zeal. She also howls for no apparent reason. I want to howl for no apparent reason. I never have, and doubt I ever will, but the idea sounds liberating. She doesn’t care that everyone looks at her as if she’s lost her mind. She knows one doesn’t have to act sane, to be sane. All she knows is she felt like howling - so she howled. Life should be so simple.

Sane