When our Vizsla Bartok was about a year old, I took him to the beach to play with some dog friends – Buddy a Dalmatian and Norma a Rottweiler. The three of them leapt in the surf like ponies, play-nipping at each other, darting back and forth through the crashing waves. At one point, a flock of Pelicans dropped into regal formation, surging above the shoreline like an Air Force. Bartok raced after the Pelicans, chasing their shadows against the packed wet sand. He ran so fast, he was soon past the birds. He outran the Pelicans. Bartok ran out of shadow. He stopped, bewildered, cocking his head to one side as if to ask, “Shouldn’t I have someone to chase?”
The memory of his puzzled look inspires me. Because I hope to run past my shadow.