I rode today with the sun on my back, heading west in the afternoon hours. I had spent the day much like my other days, reading and reflecting on whatever came to mind. It is a beautifully simple existence, dependent only on riding, and thinking, and wondering with other minds on those same thoughts.
I happened to be passing by a large field on my right, that seemed to be left open for a new plant in the spring. Rows and rows of dirt mounds spread out, as far as your eye could gaze. When driving in a car as a child, I would revel in the moments when they all seem to form one being, so that instead of one long chain, they were simply dots in front of me.
There was a farm in the distance, from whence one small dot seemed to be coming towards me. I slowed down just a bit, to watch as the far-off figure approached. It bounded quickly, taking the rows seamlessly, as if its entire life was devoted to such athleticism. As it grew larger, I could make out the general figure of a dog of about medium height and long black hair. I was struck by how similar the dog looked to my own Esther.
I rolled to a stop, and looked down on this foreign dog. He jumped up on the fence, and barked at me gently. It certainly wasn’t Esther’s growl, which sounds more like she’s trying to say “I love you,” than that she is trying to intimidate you. He looked at me, not as an enemy, but not yet as a friend. I looked back at him, and wondered if he understood my smile as a measure of affection. I stared at him for quite some time, admiring what a beautiful animal was before me.
His thick black fur covered his body in an appropriate coat for the cold winter, even if it lasted in Texas for little more than a few weeks. His big brown eyes seemed so capable and ready for love, but his face knew better than to give it so freely. I thought when I first saw him that perhaps his ear was folded backwards oddly, but I realized quickly that it was cut off, the scar long healed over. I wonder what could have caused it.
After several minutes of staring at him, I decided that his owners might think it odd if I did not continue on my way. Contented with the few minutes I had to spend with such a beautiful creature, I began to peddle on my way. As I went, he began to follow me, at the same pace. I laughed, and peddled a little faster. He continued to follow, matching my speed. Faster and faster, he continued on, keeping even with me. His tongue blew about wildly as he went, and his expression seemed to me to be one of happiness -- eyes wide, wind in his face, nothing stopping him from experiencing life.
I thought back to my own Esther, as she would run and run around our back yard. Our acre or two of open land was never enough for her, and she would always go as far as we would allow. Her path never made much sense, always twisting around, and back, and then over again. She just ran and ran for the joy of running--much like my new friend beside me was doing.
I rode alongside him for what seemed like only a few minutes, but what quickly turned out to be two miles. Suddenly, his fence had reached its end, and I continued to ride on for a short distance. But as I went, he began to howl out a cry for my return. I stopped once again, and looked back on him. His ears were turned down, just like my Esther, when she knew that I was leaving without her again.
Turning around, I came to the edge of the fence and stuck my hand through to pet his head. He responded happily, licking my hand, and then letting me tousle his fur back and forth. I reached for his collar, and pulling it forward, read his name. “Hello, Mordy,” I whispered to my new friend. Leaning into my signs of affection, he recognized his name, and his ears rose in response. I laughed at his silly, almost sarcastically quizzical expression.
I pushed his head back and forth playfully, and his long tongue came out again to lick my face in either a disgusting form of retaliation or an adorably mislead plea for mercy. He dropped to his side, revealing his vulnerable underbelly. I began to rub his tummy as he desired.
As I did, I uncovered a thin red scar along his side, with another near it that looked like it must have been left by a tool that was not medical. One of his rib bones seemed to have been broken and healed without being set, because it bulged out of his side unnaturally far.
I wondered what could have caused these strange wounds--a missing ear, a strange scar, a broken rib cage. I looked down at Mordy, who seemed to trust me despite all of these things. I could never know what caused all of his pain, but he came to love me enough in this short time to share them with me anyway. His vulnerability allowed him to get the deep joy of a belly rub, even if he had to expose his weakest point and all underneath it.
The dog must have known when he saw me that I am just another passing person. I am not a solution to his problems, and I had no reason to think that his current owners were the ones who had done this to him. I couldn’t heal him, or even love him for more than just a little while. But he was willing to be vulnerable with me and love me anyway. He traveled with me for the short time he got, and when it ended, he would not be sad for the friend he lost, but happy for the joy he had received while he could receive it.
Day 9: Eighteen hundred and ninety-three miles to home. Maybe, with Mordechai’s help, only a few more to me.
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