Two days at home in-between lots of travel, got to truck on up to my retreat in the Shenandoahs. The path on the 20 acres is fairly low on overgrowth now that we are coming into eye-popping fall colors, and that earthy dead leaf smell…..mmmm. I wonder about that as I walk–good case for vegetarianism, I think. Do we ever say “love that dead animal smell”?
So the hound is doing his hound thing—nose to the ground, off on his own private adventure that not even the shepherd can follow. Anyway, she does the shepherd thing–remains loyally close to me, ever watchful, and then reprimands the hound when he returns, by grabbing his ankles in her mouth with a little growl. He looks at me like, “make her stop.” But I don’t. That is just the way of the shepherd, the same as his way is to take off for 10 minutes at a time.
He’s onto the trail of something, howling. Hope he doesn’t go into the road or on the crabby neighbor’s property. Hope he doesn’t go off for a long time, don’t want to worry about him. Oh, to hell with it, I think. Then the thought occurs, “Well, that isn’t going to help– just dismissing the situation without working through my negativity and worry. So how about ‘To HEAVEN with it’?” Yeah, I can get behind that idea. Give it to Heaven, give it to the Universe. Let the Universe work it out. Instant relief. I’m back on the trail, literally and figuratively speaking. Noticing the lovely smell of the leaves, the colors filling my eyes. And here he comes, happy for the chase, and happy to be back. And maybe even happy that the shepherd cares enough to bite his ankles.