Fall is brief in northern Texas, but it's my favorite season. There's a feeling, an essence to each season that sets the tone for the days ahead. Winter is a time of rest, of survival. We dig deep and layer, holding close to those we love. Spring reminds us that life weathers on, regardless of winter, regardless of pale legs. Summer days and nights have an air of electricity, of life, of having reached a pinnacle of sorts. Our weary, sunburned shoulders testament to how hard and long we played in the sun. When we lived in Maine, spring was like an oasis in the drought of winter. We were moles, ascending from our caves into the bright sunlight. Pale skin and sunglasses on, we ventured out to see the neighbors that we scurried past all winter, back and forth into our respective warm homes.
The seasons define the cycle of growth, life, death and rebirth. We lose sight of this fundamental cycle in a world of iPads, highways, and work schedules. There's a disconnect there. Sadly, I think we all feel it, and to get us back on track, we need holidays. I'm not referring to the commercialized urge to shop, to decorate and to guilt ourselves out of our honest-earned income. I'm referring to the essence of the holidays themselves. Each one, starting with Halloween, gives us the opportunity to stop and think, to catch our collective breath and think about the greater picture.
Halloween is the direct descendant of the Celtic celebration of Samhain (pronounced sow-in). Samhain marked "summer's end", and was the time the ancient Celts believed ushered out the "light half" and ushered in the "dark half" of the year. Also referred to as the Celtic New Year, this was a time when the veil between the world of the living and the dead was thin. Both good and bad spirits could pass through more easily. Family and friends now deceased were honored, while bad entities were warded off with masks and costumes.
There are many people that get sucked into the chaos of each holiday, but like all life's lessons, dogs seem to have it sorted out long before we've considered it. When a member of a pack dies, the survivors mourn. When the pack is reunited, they celebrate. Dogs don't need a certain time of the year to be reminded of the gift of life. When they wake, they bound about, licking faces, rejoicing in seeing it through to a new day. They don't set aside a day to be thankful for their life as we do. They thank us continually with muzzle licks, cuddles and tail wags.
Why am I posting this today? Two nights ago, I had an awful scare from Arwen. She ate her chicken and Honest Kitchen blend and promptly began vomiting. Arwen never gets sick- not really, at least. She's got an iron stomach and a tough girl's attitude. She horked up three times in 30 min, driving me to panic. As many of you know, we feed raw, and with raw there are certain risks. I suspected that a bone had become lodged in her throat, or further along, and she was in dire straits. I started imagining myself calling her Dr, my boss and friend at home, then rushing her to the emergency clinic. I imagined her deteriorating and losing consciousness. I imagined the enormous vet bill and racked my brain devising financially creative schemes to cover the expenses.
During a break in the vomiting, I saw she still looked uncomfortable so I did the one thing I knew would change her demeanor if at all possible. I leashed her up, and along with Matt (not leashed), took her for a walk. Slow at first, gaining momentum and speed, she finally raised her enormous plume flag of a tail and dove headlong into the walk. She would be OK. No more vomit. No more panic. I put my cell phone away and realized how thankful I was of having this amazing animal in my life. I was thankful for my Matt, who indulges me through thick and thin. We should never wait to celebrate life. It's fleeting and precious. Remember those that are gone and celebrate the sweetness of each moment. Dogs do it with or without pumpkins or costumes. In fact, they strongly discourage costumes!
