Black Dog Running

On the way into work one morning I passed a black dog running, heading out the country road, looking I suppose for its owner.

The dog peered into the car as I passed as if trying to gauge the familiarity of my face. I was worried. A black dog running however fleet is no match for an automobile. The owner is probably long gone and far away, while the dog, racing down the road after a faint scent fast disappearing, is going to get lost. I could see in my minds eye in a week’s time, a poster written in a child’s hand, put up at the local country store. LOST BLACK DOG.

Sam - Rest in Peace, Good Dog.

I thought about stopping to see if it would get in the car and then trying to find its home or owner. But it seemed like a hopeless task. There was no collar around the dog and I wondered if perhaps it had lost it while breaking loose from a chain. So the dog was free to race after its owner on a work day, but so quick to becoming lost.

Sometimes, I feel like that black dog running, in search of something I can’t quite name. It makes me wonder about the faint line between freedom and loss. The race for something to satisfy can feel so free, but in the end I wonder if all I am doing is running to becoming lost.

(Originally posted here 2007)

1 Comment

  1. Just a note: The photo is of my beloved Golden/Lab Retriever mix, Sam. She was my dear companion my first years in the wilderness 14 years ago. She has been dead over 10 but I still sense her presence on the land, chasing the deer in spirit form. She is buried out by the gate, still guarding me and this place in the loyal and selfless canine way. I miss her and I am glad. She was and is a good dog. It is strange and holy how these creatures scratch a home in our hearts.

    Like

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