It’s Monday morning and the sun is just barely above the horizon, brightening the oaks and poplars in a small grove that I visit often. I am in my car parked next to the trees facing the comforting flow of the Illinois River and praying the Church’s morning prayer. It is exactly one year since I had heart surgery.
My aortic prosthesis is functioning well enough so that after prayers I take a walk around the small lot where I am parked. I am breathing deeply and rapidly but I am not breathless. My walking staff is a buddy supporting me in the fresh morning air.
Another car parks next to mine. I see the same man, Tom, walk each of his dogs separately in the mornings. First, there is a 13 y/o companion dog, which looks like any standard house dog, short-haired, white with splashes of brown, terrier-like with a short tail fluttering in happiness. He looks out of the window of the passenger seat and notices me seated in my car in the next parking space. His tail wags faster.
Tom takes this compliant friend for a ten minute walk and then they both get in his car and drive away. Tom will be back soon.
When Tom drives away, I pray some more. In ten minutes, he’s back with his other dog which looks something like a husky. It’s a large black and white long -haired, blue-eyed dynamo. It’s yelping and jumping around on the front passenger seat. Tom tells me that she’s a 1 ½ year old Australian Sheep Dog.. “Can’t let her go. Gotta have a leash on her,”
After twelve sessions of obedience school “Yukee” obeys only when on a leash. Without it she will run wildly toward her own desires, regardless of what her owner commands. Tom lets her out. Yukee is already anxious to follow a scent and with her nose nearly touching the ground she strains at the leash and pulls Tom down the incline toward the river path. Tom waves goodbye.
This has been a good morning and therapeutic, I think, for my mended heart. I’m aware of the regular beating of my heart. Life seems to beat like that, too.
Now, I see that the river is breathing a wispy fog while it meanders South. Close by, I notice a great blue heron with spindly legs standing in the shallows of the river. It hops up on a rock and catches the morning sun. A soft yellow glow halos the bird while the background scenery fades into a Monet painting.