I’ve usually waited for the perfect second to be happy: As though time had been a flower waiting to bloom. My scruffy puppy-happy senior canine understands much better. Watching his tail wag as he stands in the center of a mud puddle, I now comprehend that happiness is exactly where your heart is, not just exactly where your legs travel.

Last summer time we moved into the home of our dreams: Stunning, big and by a football-sized off-leash canine park. Finally a chance for my Border collie cross, Tucker, to physical exercise his herding instincts by operating ahead of me across an expansive field. However it did not function out that way.

Whoever wrote &quotevery canine has his day&quot must have observed my canine stretching into sunset at the canine park. He was happy. I was happy. It did not final. Things appeared good at first as Tucker romped and ran, sniffed roaming canine rumps and rested. Quickly however, relaxation took precedence. Running slowed to a dawdle and Tucker’s yearn to exert fell to panting apathy. He was exhausted. I was frightened. I comprehend that as canines age they choose relaxation instead than racing, but this wasn’t it. Some thing was wrong.

Only eight months following Tucker and I arrived at his doggy mecca, his health needed that we visit his most dreaded location: The vet. Canines don’t like vets. Every time you take a canine to the vet it is like taking a child to the dentist without the lure of the lollipop that follows. Tucker was not happy. He wriggled on the table as the doggie physician poked, prodded and grew to become the things of doggy nightmares. However there was some thing for Tucker to be thankful for he could listen to neither the diagnosis nor prognosis. Apparently Tucker has a disk in his spine that was gradually crumbling, making it increasingly harder for him to romp. No more operating. No more leaping to fetch a stick mid-air. His days of glory spent embracing that part of him that’s Border collie frantic are more than. Permanently.

At first I cried. I was angry. I needed our time at the canine park to final forever. Now all that will final is its memory. However this has taught me a valuable lesson: Happiness does not happen on a schedule. I missed many possible happy hours by staring resentfully at my tiny back yard rather of throwing a ball across it. Now I’d give something to watch Tucker run about the corners of that worn wood fence. But he cannot run. Not way. Not often. Not any longer.

However today we’re happy. As cheeky as it is to speak for my canine, I believe he does not skip his fleet feet and agility. How do I know? His tail and ears bear witness. The grass is still soft and the frayed stick still magnificent in its resistance. Age does not alter this. Well being does not alter this. The only thing that modifications this is attitude.

My canine is getting older. One day, perhaps quickly, I will only stroke his smiling face via the lens of a picture frame. But today as I pat him, scent his earthy odor and listen to the occasional jingle of his canine collar, I cannot assist but smile. I’ve waited a long time for an excuse to be happy. Tucker wags his tail like a fast pendulum as I offer him a rejected section of toast. He savors it like steak.

Sometimes I wish I had been as intelligent as my canine.

Galina Pembroke is the publisher and editor of New View online magazine, as well as an internationally printed author. She specializes in health. New View magazine functions content articles on health, self-assist, option therapies, spirituality, animal rights and more. Visit us at http://www.nuvunow.ca