It was cold and windy. Not at all what we had hoped it would be like when we planned the weekend away. The roar of the water as, in waves, it crashed upon the sands usurped our utterances; we had given up verbal conversation owing to the effort and the neccesitated cold ears. Drops of rain and sea water flicked passed the hood and doused our tired eyes. But we were not to be deterred, neither was Alaska.
It’s almost a year since I carried her for the last time away from the dog shelter. Her body slumped in my arms, fighting off the effects of the general anasthetic she was under for her spaying. In the months that followed we learnt from each other. Her of my commitment to her and me of her devotion, and her fear of deep water. Alaska they called her, our tail wagging companion.
The cemented pipe reached forth into the water like an arm. It emerged from the sand as though anchoring it to the stillness beyond the raging waves. I could feel it call out. The sirens were singing and I was bewitched.
“Will you stay with her while I go?” I asked my wife, remembering Alaska’s fear.
She didn’t hear me on account of the waves. I handed her the untethered leash and she gestured to the dog to join her. With that I turned to the expanse and walked the narrow habour.
Halfway up I began to feel light touches on the back of my boots. Looking behind me I saw her. Nervous, tail between her hind legs, looking up at me then down to the waters around us. She had followed me. Partly overjoyed as we neared the end I stroked her wet back and praised her. The fear filtered my assurances. When I faced the beach she wriggled her way behind me, eager once more to follow. Her tail lifted, and so did her face, when our feet found sand again.
It is impossible I think, to follow without trusting. This is the trusting that doesn’t mitigate risks but wholeheartedly devotes to a determined following; the trusting that goes closer to the expanse of fear in order to be LED out of it; the trusting that is forever behind, ready to stop when the leader stops. This trusting is the tether that’s stronger than chains; it is fastened only by undying LOVE; proved by COMMITMENT for whom TIME bears witness. It is the trusting at which I consistently fail but desire. Maybe because I fear being a sheep, or a dog, and fancy that childlike way of being beneath me.
“Give me the courage to follow even in the face of fear, even in the face of death.”