Freedom

I love to watch Morey run. Seeing his athletic body in action running, chasing, jumping (usually after a tennis ball) gives me a second-hand sense of freedom. He is not bothered by human boundaries like sidewalks or landscaping-he just goes over, under, around, or through these obstacles. He is so totally alive and luxuriating in his abilities as a healthy, young, active dog and it’s a pleasure to watch him.

Watching his freedom of movement is even more meaningful to me because of the restrictions I often feel because of my disability. Not necessarily restrictions in what I can do (because I can do anything : ), but in the ease and access I have to move freely. For the most part, my path of travel is restricted to designated pathways; usually cement sidewalks and roads. I can’t (easily) take shortcuts, jump over obstacles, run up or down hills, or frolic off the beaten path.  I can’t splash through puddles or streams, wade in the lake, or feel the grass beneath my bare feet. Morey has none of these restrictions. He goes where his nose leads him, with no direct destination in mind. He changes routes, rolls in the grass, jumps over rocks, and runs just for the fun of it. He jumps in and out of the water (when he gets the chance) and can easily race up and down hills. He will flop down in the grass for a short rest and then take off again, chasing a new smell that caught his attention. 

Watching Morey take such delight in all these activities brings me a type of contentment and satisfaction that I rarely experience in other ways. There are those who would say that in that moment, my spirit joins Morey’s as we experience that aspect of life together. I like that explanation because Morey has become an extension of me. Watching him almost makes me feel that I am taking part in his antics and adventures and at least for a while, I am as free as my dog; running and jumping and thoroughly alive and caught up in the moment.