Old Dog

  How could Life teach us 

without leaving traces?

  An old boxer, walking with his boss.The dark brown, tiger striped dog holds his head at an angle turned up to its left. As if eyeing his owner, who is just a few steps ahead of him. For a brief moment I see a slight change in the tilt, the dog picks up an interest in me. But silly self occupation is absorbing me and I fail to respond. When they pass by me it is too late, the owner, between us, blocks our view. 

    Is it really too late? I look at the boxer again, when they are a few steps away from me. And he too takes another look. Lifts his head merrily as he notices that the lady at the bus stop is finally making eye contact. His owner is walking on at their slow pace and the animal feels torn for a moment. His love for strangers wins the plea. As I pat and cuddle him, I see how white his snout is.  He must be a very old dog.

        The brown boxer can barely tear himself away from me. But he can take his time, his owner is standing still, waiting calmly now, smiling at us. He knows his friend's interest in people. I give the dog one more loving stroke, then send him back to the waiting man. Had the dog been homeless I would have taken him home with me. But he is being taken care of real fine.  I watch the two walking on, catching one more look from each of them. Only now I'm taking note of the dog's heavily bent hind legs, his twisted back. Walking must be a hard job for him. Yet he lifts his head, looking around for more people to love. What a beautiful creature.