Floating

I have never considered myself a water lover. In fact, swimming in the ocean downright terrifies me. I blame the movie Jaws. Standing knee deep in Lake Michigan, tossing a ball with one hand for Finn and slurping java with another does not count despite E coli likely being a more serious threat to me than a shark. Gavin does not waste his time swimming, unless it is to chase another dog into the water. I spent the last week or so sailing through the Adriatic Sea and after a very long hiatus from travelling to faraway places that intrigue me; I found my fire again, in the water.

Back when I was in the corporate world, I lived for my vacations but as I pursued my passion; my "time off" was dedicated to learning and growing. As my Lug's eyes grew more tender and his gait slowed; I traded my frequent flyer miles for road trips with him. I have no regrets. And, as I floated along the bow of a 50-foot sailboat with an absolutely amazing group of people that I just met, looking off into deep navy blue, almost black water for hours on end; I was able to relax and get in touch with my soul in a way that only comes to me when I am plucked out of my own little world.

After Gavin's winky incident; I had to put him on quarantine for ten days so he could heal enough to stay at his favorite boarding facility. I thought Lil' Big Head would be bouncing off the walls, as he sometimes does. Though I find the sight of him tearing so fast into the living room sideways that his eyes and ears morph into cartoon character features right before he crashes into the chair then scares himself with the BOOM of my end table hitting the floor hilarious; a week of that as I tried to tie up loose ends for my time away might have added to my lack of sleep. Instead, Lil' Big Head was so super snuggly. It is novel to live with a dog who knows his limits. Finn never did. My Lug would have raced towards the sun's warm rays after his treasured tennis balls the whole day if I let him, even as an old dude. I used to always say that if someone tossed Finn's toy off a cliff, he would have dove right off the edge to get it. I am glad no one ever attempted to test that theory.

When I dropped Gavin off for boarding, he was so excited to romp again with other dogs that he barely looked over his shoulder as I doted on him and repeated how much I would miss him. And, I recall during my past worldly excursions how much I fretted over what Finn was doing the whole time, if he was okay, and how it really never made a difference; other than adding a few lines to my forehead. I reminded myself as I placed my key into the ignition of my car that Gavin loves dogs more than almost anything in the world and I fully trusted the people who were caring for him. They all laughed when I asked who was the lucky person that had to rub Gavin's prescription ointment on his penis twice a day. Of course, as soon as I had the chance, I sent them an email to check on him but I was able to let go of my worry for the first time and it felt good; better than good. I felt free.

In Croatia, during some of our longer sailing expeditions between islands; we would anchor the boat in one of the many magnificent, peaceful, turquoise bays. Some of us would make lunch and others would clean up. I was pleasantly surprised by how easily and naturally we all divided the chores. One afternoon, after a long dose of doggie paddling, I realized that I had completely forgotten my fear of open water. I was laying on the deck of the boat, working on nothing more taxing than improving my tan; enraptured by the notion that my aversion so naturally slipped away. As I allowed the sun's rays to dry my skin, I noticed a perfect triangle in the water, close to shore. It sparkled and danced in the light. Whenever I see sparkles, I think of Finn because he exuded zest and a zeal for life. My eyes welled up, but it was joy and not pain I was feeling as I saw him, swimming towards me; ball perfectly positioned in his mouth so he could kick with sweeping delight.

The idea of my Lug being with me on a boat in another part of the world that he would have never been able to travel if he were here on earth; filled my heart with the love I used to see every time I saw him look up at me. While I gave up my vision of a school of sharks just waiting for me to jump into the sea for their evening meal; I would have not as easily given up the notion they would eat my sweet, chocolate nugget. During one of our many road trips; I daydreamed about Finn and I hiking side by side through Smoky Mountains then napping away on the sun porch of the 32-room house I rented for less money a night than I spend at the drugstore on a regular basis. When we arrived to the entrance of park itself; I saw a sign that announced "Warning: Bears" and the images of hiking with My Lug changed.

I am grateful everyday for GPS because I would get myself lost on a four-street grid so the notion of not knowing where we were and coming face to face with an animal that could kill both my Lug and me with one bite altered my course. Instead, we spent the days hiking around the farm, meandering around town and me reading while my Lug chewed a bone. For my own safety, I decided to explore the mountains solo from a cable car and Finn joined me in the back seat as I enjoyed the foliage from the safety of my car.

During my vacation, I also let go of my fear of jumping off of a boat. Once I stopped wobbling, gripping and holding onto the railings for dear life; I felt like a kid as I plunged into the water then climbed the ladder to do it over and over again. Finn never held back. If he saw something that he knew would make him happy; my Lug raced towards it, without hesitation. I watch Gavin openly bring happiness to the world too. To date, no one has passed us during our illegal fetch trips to the school yard without laughing at him as he wiggles and shimmies towards them.

I hope to carry my fearless heart with me now that I am home again, who knows where it might lead? I keep thinking about the person I was in 2012 as I watched Finn fade and saw myself dwindle in the process. I feared the person I might become without my Lug to inspire me, greet me at the door and shower me with the world's best slobbery kisses but I am learning that I am braver than I have ever been. In the words of Martha Whitmore-Hickman: "We will, of course, find new places to put the affection and love and time that we used to pour out to the one we lost. Not to do that would be to turn inward, refuse to be vulnerable-a poor memorial, a poor stewardship of the life left to us." And, I have a pretty good life to live.