Stopping to Smell the Moonlight

It was 6:17 when I heard the fussing. Our puppy Sophie needed to go outside to do her well, you know...

I get up, grab my sweatshirt and shoes to take her out. I unlock her kennel and she rushes out. On our way to the back door she stops suddenly.

She spies something on the kitchen floor. Sniffs it, then keeps moving.

It was a patch of moonlight shining in the kitchen window.

Smart girl.

I think she has her priorities right.

Not that I think laying around for large portions of the day is the way I think I should live my life. But when Sophie rests, she really rests.

When she explores, she's super focused and much to my annoyance at times, a little too clever at spotting that one battleship that didn't get picked up because it was too close to the color of the carpet. Or the water bottle one of my fellas left under a bench at the park.

She lives in the moment. All the time. She won't hesitate to let you know when she needs something, she assumes you think she's amazing and she is attentive to the world around her in a way I am not.

 

 

 

I am going to spend the next several days trying to be more like her. Noticing the moonlight on the kitchen floor, learning to really rest when my body says it's time, and being alert to the details of life.