Whenever Cooper and I go to the Palisades Bluffs we always look for and inevitably run into his favorite people—a fancy and friendly duo that consists of Sadie, a fluffy white number who lets Cooper sniff her backside with no complaint and, Sadie’s owner, a big bearded sedentary man in an electric wheelchair who has a special bond with Cooper, simply because he calls him “Spitfire.”
Every time we see this magical pair Cooper skips and jumps and leaps and smiles and every time the two of them trot off away from us, Cooper sits and contemplates his life, as if he’s wondering when we will be able to see these uplifting creatures again.
Me, I just wonder how the man in the wheelchair gets along. How, during the comings, goings and doings of each and every day that are involved in living, he manages to keep such an upbeat and joyful tone. How he cultivated whatever it is inside him and made it manifest so that when you are within ten feet of him, it registers: Life is altogether doable.
Inevitably, I’ve decided that we all get along in our way, on some level. Whatever challenge we’re facing or heartbreak we’re enduring or confusion we’re mired in—we make our way and we proclaim our place among things. And if we’re lucky, the fact that we’ve made it this far, with a semblance of a sparkle in our eye—this fact alone will rub off on other people so that the only thing we need to do, really, is to show up and let the light shine from our faces and in that way we move the human (and dog) race forward just a tad and we change the world a little bit.
Yours In Ultimate Admiration,