Like a Dog

Just took my three-and-a-half year old Lab Remy for her daily romp. It's an amazing day here at the Jersey Shore. Probably 60 degrees, brilliant sunshine, pockets of shimmering orange and yellow leaves still in the trees, but also sprinkled along the wet ground.

You'd have never felt this way as a kid, the way I felt, watching Remy chase the ball over and over again. No, as a kid you'd have been wondering how many more times she would chase the ball before you could call it quits and get back to whatever it is you were doing. You'd have mixed in a few yawns and maybe a "come on, Dog" under your breath.

But today, I could've chucked that tennis ball forever, because I was just captivated by my dog's pure joy. With her ears pinned back against the wind, she'd bolt full-speed ahead, somehow sensing -- as if she has eyes behind those ears -- the direction the ball was headed. When the ball would take the perfect bounce, she'd spring into the air and try to make the sensational catch. Why? Not for the applause. It was just me and her. No, I can only guess that Remy thinks going airborne to make the grab is...fun.

Her gait coming back is always so proud, with her tail wagging and drool spilling off the ball, spritzing in all directions. Whether she makes the catch or bungles it, she always comes back proud and loves to veer in for a quick pat on her belly.

For some reason, I feel like an Old Sage today. Maybe it's the glorious weather, or maybe just some inner happiness that my two sons are no longer sick and are getting back to being themselves. Today's run with Remy just made me reflective.

Remember as a kid, how it felt to sprint? I'm not saying I was ever fast, but I think every kid "feels" fast at one moment or another. Maybe it's playing flashlight tag (don't you always feel like you're fast in the dark?), or maybe it's running downhill, your feet slapping the pavement as you push the limits of your balance.

That's what I thought of when I was watching Remy run. And it made me feel good.