Hours before sunrise, I woke up to an unknown sound---a burp, a yawn, or a heave. As I peered through half-closed eyes, I could hear the gentle buzz of the radio…then I hear Fritz, sprawled at the foot of my bed, make a satisfied sigh and was silent again. Or maybe I mistook the sound. Maybe what I heard were Fritz’ rapid eye movements, murmurs from his own deep secret dreams. And not only dreams---aspirations. Dreams of seeing the ocean. Of meeting his soul mate. Puppies. Grand-puppies. Great-grand-puppies.
Fritz turns 17 months on Christmas day. A bundle of fur and gentle eyes, wet kisses and wagging tail, and a limp that looks like a swagger. Early this year, I thought he wouldn’t see the light of day after being sick for weeks. And two Sundays ago, he broke free from his collar as we were about to cross a busy street. My heart dropped to my feet, my blood went cold and my initial reaction was to run after him. But I realized it might scare him, and he would panic and run towards the on coming traffic. So I called his name calmly while he ran home...he was lounging at his favorite spot on the foot of the stairs when I walked through the door. I hugged him tight.
And there he was, sighing in his sleep, no worries, not afraid of death. Not even of adulthood.
I scratched his head---he looked up to me, hugged his red pillow, stretched and I felt downright hopeful. This morning, as I watched the light creep into my room, I saw sunbursts of joy and sorrow.
It's humming in my universe, and so is Fritz. Someday, he will see the ocean and his puppies. I'll make it happen.