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Boone & Squirt

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It’s five o’clock this morning, still dark and “cold” for southern California.

It rained quietly last night, and now a shimmer of thin ice covers puddles. A dusting of light frost waits to be melted in the warmth of first light.

Soon I will go walking up Polly Butte Road with my little friend, Pepper … he’s a Squirt, you know, always ready for any new adventure. Squirt looks at me as if I know things. We’ve been friends a long time. He just wants to be with me, perhaps even as much as I want to be with him.

Squirt is “friend of all the world” and very generous with his affection. Nobody can work a crowd like Squirt.

Earlier this morning, I found a little story written by Raphael Marie Turnbull in 1979, about her friend, Boone. I believe she sees Boone pretty much the way I see Squirt. It seems that all the creatures of earth “know things” in their own way.

Here’s what Raphael Marie Turnbull wrote about Boone.

“Boone took me for a walk today. He pulled and tugged on his leash until he was reminded to stop, or at least slow down. He sniffed and rooted with that great wrinkled, hound head of his, picking up bits of paper, chewed apples, other things he cannot bear to pass by, dropping them easily after several steps.

He only picks things up as a form of acknowledgement, recognition of their existence. Boone doesn’t want to keep those things, he only means to touch them then move on.

His pleasure’s in the moving, rooting, sniffing, finding, walking quickly but with head held down so he does not miss one single … delightful … intriguing … Whiff … of life.”

Yes, Boone “knows things” and I am happy to learn from him.

Thank you, Lord, for Boone and Squirt who remind me not to miss one single … delightful … intriguing … Whiff … of life.