Rise & Shine
She weighs four pounds. It doesn’t sound like much, but weight doesn’t seem to have anything to do with it. Her four tiny paws might as well belong to a St. Bernard because that is what they feel like at 5 a.m. Beams of energy shoot out from her eyes, her ears, and her muscles. So much that I am concerned she might explode. Even though it is still dark outside she knows morning has arrived and there is absolutely no snooze button on this miniature alarm clock—I spend more conscious effort trying not to move and in pretending that I am still asleep. So, I get up, mission accomplished.
I admit, this wake-up call is my own fault. I have created a chaotic morning ritual of giving my two dogs, Puzzle and Lola, “Greenies” as soon as we get up. I started the greenie routine to keep them occupied long enough for me to heat up a cup of yesterday’s coffee in the microwave. Thus, we now have a set order of events every morning—greenies, breakfast for the dogs (coffee for me) and then we all go outside. Once outside, there is an instant silence and I am filled with awe. Stars fill the vast canopy over my head and the moon glows in the early morning sky while it waits for the sun to make a grand entrance so that it can quietly slip away. As the steam rises from my coffee mug, I am grateful that I am able to begin my day with such a grand display of nature. —Back inside, the dogs go back to bed and the morning is all mine.
The animals that have taken care of me over the years have brought so many good things into my life; laughter, smiles, exercise, conversation, the list is never ending. Reflecting on this, I am reminded of an old man I used to know years ago. When my children were young we lived on a ranch about two miles outside of a small mountain town in the Colorado Rockies. Across the dirt road there was another ranch and from my house, I could just barely see the roofline of the original homestead owned by Horace Button. Horace’s wife had passed away and he did not live there anymore, he lived in town with his sister. Horace did, however, still have a small misfit herd of cattle that consisted of an old crippled bull, two or three worn out cows and a few of their inbred offspring. Every day Horace would walk from town, feed his herd and walk back.
Horace was once a champion skier and the years of surviving Colorado winters had left him with frostbit fingers and toes. Cataracts had concealed most of his vision and he wore dark sunglasses to cover his eyes. This daily walk took him most the day. His feet never left the ground, instead, he shuffled along the gravel road and through the pasture leaving a solid zig-zag trail behind him. His boots were never laced. I presume that he was not able to tie the laces with his arthritic hands. The cows could see him coming down the long open road and they would patiently stand and watch him as he slowly approached.
Many times, I would pass Horace along the road. I always stopped and offered him a ride, but he only accepted my offer twice, even in the worst blizzards. A week following one of the rides he accepted, he walked to our house, knocked on the door and gave both of my sons a piece of hard candy. On several occasions, someone from town would come out with a snowplow and clear a path to the haystack. In the time I knew him, Horace only spoke a few words to me and I remember him saying that the cows kept him alive. After that, I understood why he made the daily trek even though it would have been so much easier to sell the herd. Those cows were his guardians. They gave him a reason to get up in the morning, to get dressed, to walk and to live.
I am thankful I have animals who care that much about me (sleeping in is overrated anyway). And for graphic design purposes, mornings are when the ideas flow freely, creativity is abundant and I feel I can tackle anything. So rise and shine, it is a good day to be alive and one more thing, thank you Lola.
Horace Button photos courtesy of Grand County Historical Society