Recently, “self-absorbed I” was on a routine power-walk near the Parsons High School—a spectacle casual observers might likely describe as “pretend exercise.” While pausing to tighten a shoe string, I received a very surprising and day-brightening greeting from a total stranger. One actually acknowledging my existence; even making eye contact! And, not just hurriedly scurrying-by, seemingly detached from one’s surroundings, with head buried in a smartphone screen, or ears plugged with earbuds, etc.
Yes, while appearing to show up out of nowhere, and although now living life after the tragic loss of a leg, this complete stranger took the time and effort to extend a warm greeting to another unknown. You know what I mean, that very unique and especially friendly “body-language” that a most handsome male dog, with black and white hair, sporting a reddish collar, and missing a right front leg, uses when wishing to warmly engage with we humans.
Thereafter, without a spoken word being exchanged, this complete stranger chose to accompany me for a couple of city blocks or so, alongside, or nearby. As he cheerfully walked, ran, and romped about, with a demonstrated nature of energy, balance, coordination, confidence, and joyfulness that many of his peers having the benefit of all four legs likely much envied. And, doing so with an enviable spirit void of even the slightest trappings of self-pity, victimhood, and remorse regarding the horrific injury he had obviously once suffered and the special challenges now faced.
For a special moment in time my attention seemed to depart from my “self-absorbed self”—as I instead focused on this most cheerful canine dealing with life and his world while having only three legs. I wondered what traumatic experience had taken one of his precious front limbs, and thought about the painful, fearful, and challenging recovery process he had to have likewise dealt with. Questioning whether I would be able to in kind endure similar tragedy, and thereafter have the positive and confident attitude he so enthusiastically exhibited. The answer I kept coming up with—very likely, not.
As this cheerful stranger departed my presence, likely in search for more interesting company elsewhere, I much hoped that his well-kept appearance indicated that his home was nearby and he would soon safely return thereto.
It seems noteworthy that for the most part cats appear to basically “tolerate” us. While dogs are blessed (possibly burdened) with the capacity for “unconditional affection” for we humans—and in some cases, even for the most undeserving among us.
And, regarding our likewise human capacity for “tolerance” and “unconditional affection” for one another, and for other life-forms we share this Earth with—well, that seems to be a work in process with considerable room for improvement.
But now, back to my “self-absorbed self” and real or imagined challenges—and at times a sense of “terminal uniqueness” likely shared by countless others. —William James Moore
Yes, while appearing to show up out of nowhere, and although now living life after the tragic loss of a leg, this complete stranger took the time and effort to extend a warm greeting to another unknown. You know what I mean, that very unique and especially friendly “body-language” that a most handsome male dog, with black and white hair, sporting a reddish collar, and missing a right front leg, uses when wishing to warmly engage with we humans.
Thereafter, without a spoken word being exchanged, this complete stranger chose to accompany me for a couple of city blocks or so, alongside, or nearby. As he cheerfully walked, ran, and romped about, with a demonstrated nature of energy, balance, coordination, confidence, and joyfulness that many of his peers having the benefit of all four legs likely much envied. And, doing so with an enviable spirit void of even the slightest trappings of self-pity, victimhood, and remorse regarding the horrific injury he had obviously once suffered and the special challenges now faced.
For a special moment in time my attention seemed to depart from my “self-absorbed self”—as I instead focused on this most cheerful canine dealing with life and his world while having only three legs. I wondered what traumatic experience had taken one of his precious front limbs, and thought about the painful, fearful, and challenging recovery process he had to have likewise dealt with. Questioning whether I would be able to in kind endure similar tragedy, and thereafter have the positive and confident attitude he so enthusiastically exhibited. The answer I kept coming up with—very likely, not.
As this cheerful stranger departed my presence, likely in search for more interesting company elsewhere, I much hoped that his well-kept appearance indicated that his home was nearby and he would soon safely return thereto.
It seems noteworthy that for the most part cats appear to basically “tolerate” us. While dogs are blessed (possibly burdened) with the capacity for “unconditional affection” for we humans—and in some cases, even for the most undeserving among us.
And, regarding our likewise human capacity for “tolerance” and “unconditional affection” for one another, and for other life-forms we share this Earth with—well, that seems to be a work in process with considerable room for improvement.
But now, back to my “self-absorbed self” and real or imagined challenges—and at times a sense of “terminal uniqueness” likely shared by countless others. —William James Moore
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