Dog | Open Space Practice, (AKA: A Thousand Shades of Gray)

Small Stone: Two Boys

In the living room, where there are two couches, two dog beds, a chair, and no humans, you two boys cuddle together at one end of one couch. When I first find you there, you (Sam) have tucked yourself as tightly as you can fit against Dexter, your head resting on his back. Your chins are both so white, Dexter’s because of age and yours because it’s a typical marking of your breed mix.

Dexter was pretty happy as an only dog for those four months before you came, at least for the part after he’d recovered from Obi’s loss, but I know he’s happier with you around–even when you steal his toys or crowd him when it’s treat time or push him out of the way to get attention from the humans. The two of you give each other something we can’t, understand each other in a way I’ll never be able to, even though I am also pretty good at cuddling in a pile on the couch.

Small Stone: Sam’s Eyes

Petting you, I stop myself for a moment, sink in to the moment, and really see you. I find you already there, always there, in that space where dogs live–now. I notice the warm gold of your eyes, the flecks of gold and brown in the fur around them, so strange since from a distance you look like a black dog. That coloring is what made Dr. Mulnix, the first time he saw you at eleven weeks old, say “he definitely has some Shepherd in him.”

I look in your eyes now, and you look back. We are in this moment together, connected, a communication that has no need for words. No future and no past, only now–the place I can always find you.