My burly Golden Retriever friend, Toby, and I were just on a brisk walk catching the last of the suns rays when we passed an elderly, frail man. "Hello", he greeted us, "What a magnificent dog".
"Thank you", I replied for Toby.
"He is so beautiful to look at in the light. What do you call him?" I liked that he asked me what I call him rather than what his name is. As if to imply that Toby has an identity beyond the name that was decided for him.
We chatted for a bit longer, and then he thanked me for taking the time to stop and allow him to marvel at Toby.
I feel fortunate to have been graced by this mans presence. He struck me as someone who really appreciates the gift of life. His gentle face was painted with wisdom and his eyes, worn from smiling, were genuine.
When I got back to Toby's house I let him out into the back, caught up in my head about writing this post when I got home. There Toby was, magnificent, eagerly watching my every move with a sock hanging out one side of his mouth and his tongue the other. And there I was, too busy to appreciate this magnificent dog, this magnificent moment. Thinking of the man I suddenly felt inspired to appreciate this beautiful life I have and I charged after Toby. We ran around in circles on the grass until we were dizzy, landing in a big embrace. Both of us with goofy dog grins.
Thank you magnificent man.