My dog is getting old. No, he is old already.
When he was a puppy, I had to learn about him so I
can keep up with his stubbornness. An Akita expects you to understand him.
There is no compromise – he knows he can get what he wants given his size,
strength and street smart.
And for 6 years, I was the one who searched. And he
patiently waited for me to find.
… It will be
Christmas Day soon, and a new year will show up. My dog will be older and I
will wonder if I learned enough.
So, this morning very early when he woke me up by vocalising
his dreams, I got up, made coffee and sat by the window to count the stars. It
seemed like all the stars were brighter at 3am, and the cold desert night had
frozen them into their usual places in the high skies.
I do not look back at an ending year and wonder what
happened, what I did make happen, nor what has happened to me. I just keep my
sails tight and continue upon that river. But I do secretively return to the
shore of that personal interior river, we all have. Where upon its banks we
recall the mossy rocks we climbed barefoot. Where we have left prints walking,
alone or with others. With someone who did not mind walking along.
It is that interior river Heraclitus described best:
“No
man ever steps in the same river twice
For
that river is not the same river and he’s not the same man”
… My dog is getting old. And after almost a decade
of daily experiences, I have come to realise that while he helped me appreciate
that discovering and celebrating the eccentricities of present moments can be
achieved best through routine behaviors.
Because we know we can return to routine for
respite, while getting ready for the next eccentric discovery. Or thought. Or
behaviour.
December 18, 2025
© Vahé A. Kazandjian, 2025
No comments:
Post a Comment