Dominoe

dominoe

I was in-between.

Fiercely independent

Money saved up.

And time before I headed west.

My roommate called. Someone found a runaway dog. Dominoe.

Named her after the damsel in Sharky’s Machine.

Malnourished.

Skittish.

Afraid of a suddenly raised hand.

We walked in the woods, she always a few yards away, my buddy.

One day, we drove farther, walked in the autumn leaves.

Met an old friend. We chatted about 15 minutes, and I turned around.

She was gone.

I was hours running up and down the trail, yelling her name.

I was worthless.

I could take care of myself, but no one else.

Worthless.

Darkness.

I would camp out.

Return the next day.

I would do that every day, until I found her. Every day.

I cried back to the car.

… and there she sat, waiting for me.

My awareness became a circle of responsibility much wider than myself.

We drove across the country…

… had adventures.

Saw exciting lands.

Made a home.

She parted a few years later.

But I never forgot what I learned that day in the woods.

Dominoe.