There’s a beautiful 5-year-old tan kelpie called Tessa at the dog pound I volunteer at who has a neurological impairment (she looks something like this cutie). It’s caused her to lose control of her back legs and when she walks or runs, her hind legs hop and skip out of control.
The condition Tessa has is only going to get worse, and eventually she won’t be able to walk or control her bodily functions (at that point a tough decision will probably be made). But do you think she cares she can’t control her back legs or that when she chases a ball her rear end flails out of control? Hell nah. It’s almost like she knows she’s got a limited amount of time to enjoy just running around and chasing the ball and being a regular doggy type of dog doing doggy type of things.
I’m grateful that my dog Chunky¹ is healthy, but like Tessa, and like me and like you, his time’ll also come.
When I go to the beach and throw the ball for him, he doesn’t stop. He’ll chase the ball, bring it back, go chase it again, bring it back, chase it again, bring it back, chase it again, bring it back, chase it, bring it, chase, bring, chase, bring etc. etc. literally, until he collapses. Every time, I’ve got to be the partypooper who puts a end to the fun. And it’s something us human people can learn a lot from.
Much like Tessa’s, Chunky’s fate’s out of his control. Most immediately, it’s in the hands of me and my wife, but it’s mostly in the hands of nature. Just like you and me.
Remember Henry? Even if you just did exactly what he’s doing here for the rest of your life:
(and just had someone feed you and give you water…), sooner or later, nature’s going to come for you too.
So while you can, chase the ball and bring it back. Then chase it again and bring it back again, because as The Grim Reaper says in Bill & Ted’s Bogus Journey…
—
¹ This is Chunky.
