Chasing a Squirrel

Buddy, our one-year-old golden retriever, knows how to live in the present. When I’m feeling brave, I’ll go for a run with him at our local state park. While running helps me to be in the present, my attempt is nothing compared to Buddy’s ability to spot a falling leaf that happens to cross his path triggering a hot pursuit. Worse yet, he’ll chase a chipmunk scurrying across the road. Of course, we’d never get anywhere if I didn’t reel him in. It isn’t easy. 75 pounds of earnest, willful dog scampering toward that little bunny. Poor thing. 

Buddy so naturally lives in the immediate moment that we can correct him for digging another blasted hole in our backyard one second and the next second he is at our side with the most endearing look of love as if nothing happened. Well, of course he has already moved on because I don’t think there is any room in his brain for more than the present, the right now, this particular moment. 

If only I could live in the present more often and with more zeal. Worry or fear sometimes creeps in because of the unknown. Or I can’t stop thinking about a past memory, replaying it over and over in my mind as if I could change anything about it. Buddy is teaching me, bit by bit, that really all we can do is live in the present moment and breathe. Or chase a squirrel. You pick.