My four-legged friend

Here are a couple of pieces that I want to share as a way to acknowledge what a great companion my Black Lab, Sophie has been on this journey. She was just three years old when Barry died - and they were close. She was so incredible in those early days - usually a dog who was in the limelight of our family, she stayed in the background and kept a close eye on all of us as we entered this huge transition. For several weeks she sat on the deck, staring at the driveway... hoping he would come home. Since then she has been an constant presence and often seems to know when I need a little extra love and support.

Winter Moments

Cross country skiing, my faithful Lab and me,
headed to our favorite stretch along our river.
Light, low clouds shroud the horizon,
freezing temperature turns our breath to steam.
First day out usually means she tries to bite my skis,
fearful of the speed with which I fly
down the hill that marks the entry to the trail.
I hold her gently and tell her I’m okay.
This time something in my voice lets her know it’s true.
We glide along the trail we’ve traveled so often,
with children and husband in the past,
now just the two of us.
We find a rhythm, me in the track,
she to my side with nose to the ground
taking it all in as only a dog can.
Tree lined trail opens up to show the river view.
Frozen all the way across,
clear ice in places,
cloudy ice in others.
Pockets of snow show windprints
left by dancing breezes of past days.
As I stop to take in the sight,
the sun peeks out from behind the soft clouds.
I look up to see the genial blue of the winter sky.
Blazing sun comes out fully and reflects off the ice
into my awestruck eyes.
My soul feels warmed by the intensity of the light,
a sensation that only the sun can produce.
Stand of maples across the river seem to be reaching
their fingers from ground to sky,
wanting to caress the beauty.
My busy mind, still searching for answers, wonders
what does this mean?
And I think I don’t know,
but then it comes to me.
I don’t have to know,
and perhaps the message is to simply be there.
Just be in that moment, shared only with
my four legged friend and the universe.
I gratefully move on as the
sunlight makes a show of the snow crystals,
mini prisms refracting the light
into the colors of the rainbow.
And in those winter moments
I truly am okay.

Sarah Carlson

January 27, 2007

My Dog Taught Me

My wise and wonderful
dog taught me a few things today.
We went for a snowshoe
during another peaceful storm
to the purposeful brook
and our beloved river.
Her exuberance was contagious,
her joy palpable -
off on a romp in the snow
with her human breaking trail.
The going was hard and we
had to pause a few times to rest.
at our spot where the
brook empties into the river.
My four legged friend needed some love.
She leaned her tired body against my legs
quivering with fatigue and waning excitement.
I stroked her head, her back and said, “You’re okay,”
over and over until I realized - I’m okay, too.
Yes, I’m okay, too.
I could feel her love,
her giving, her getting.
This evening I lay down for a rest
and she climbed up next to me,
put her head on my chest
to snuggle and to just be.
Contentment oozed from her
and I realized that she knows,
wants me to know,
it really is okay to trust, to be.
In fact, it is right to do so.

Sarah Carlson

February 13, 2008