The well renowned Dog Whisperer, Cesar Millan, mentioned in one of his programs that
a dog’s dream life would not be like yours or mine. They would be indifferent to opulent surroundings
or fancy cars or communities. They wish
for every day to be an adventure. Yes, every day an adventure. I’ve mentioned it before, but it bears
repeating.
My
wife broached the topic of death while we were driving to the gym for our
morning workout, in particular her own.
“I
wonder how I will die?” she muttered. I
was just drinking in the flawless autumn sky, so was caught by surprise. After being reassured her health was good and
her mood buoyant, we began to toy with the topic and then conditions of how
that would someday play out. Of interest was what if we knew the exact day, but
not the time? Oh, and you could know the place, but not the means. After a short venture into the subject I had
to add; the prediction would be certain.
That needed to be added for the
sake of an obvious flaw by which in just avoiding the place, the dire
prediction of you dying wouldn’t happen.
So we said the end would occur at a particular city park.
We each took different track on the
idea. She was practicing her usual gift
of Capricornian stubbornness by believing she could avoid the place and outfox
the rest of the prediction, (she so detest limitations).
“If
you were in another town how could you possibly die in Piedmont Park?”
I, on the other hand, embraced my demise
within the context of the rules of the GAME we were playing. So I immediately began
constructing a perfect morning; a great breakfast followed by calls to my loved
ones, then I’d write notes and place them by the things I wanted certain family
members to have when I was gone, then finally take a leisurely walk towards my
appointed end. She was mentally googling
flight times of airlines, trains, buses and caravans out of the city.
The topic of how continued to loom, it was
at that point the idea of what we would do on our final day was hijacked by the
horror of so many ways (painless and PAINFUL) that one could meet their
end. Of note, we agreed that being in an
airliner plunging to the earth from 12,000 feet up would be the most terrifying,
(according to the math it would take a minute to hit the ground.) even if we both
agreed besides the fall, it would be pretty painless at the moment of impact.
After some
time of picturing situations where it would be more accommodating (we agreed in
our sleep the best), the topic lost its edge and we refocused on the other
mundane things we would do after the workout.
But for a few moments we were in the adventure of our ending….and I can
get the idea that if we’re interested….then the process of our interest is our
adventure. It’s not ABOUT anything, it’s
how we think and feel on the particular situation that makes for the adventure…
and
here we thought dogs were limited. They’ve
shaved a life of excitement down to the necessary… “Oh look, the human is here!
Now the fun starts!”
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