Tempest and What’s Next

It’s not about the dog. It’s about the decision to get the dog.

Among the many dimensions of aging is the tremendous gravitational pull of relinquishment. With relinquishment comes the lessening of responsibility, the shedding of weighty things, like jobs and old pictures of relatives no one can name. Relinquishment will make us lighter, we think, and lessen the burden on those we leave behind. We should be lean and trim and unadorned when it is our time, not thick with things that are due and animals waiting to be fed.

“Relinquishment comes from the verb relinquish, to give up. The Latin root of both words is relinquere, “leave behind, forsake, or abandon,” which combines re, “back,” with linquere, “to leave.” Definitions of relinquishment: the act of giving up and abandoning a struggle or task, etc.”

So, this is a powerful thing – the grabbing, throttling pressure of relinquishment. It is compelling. But so is the memory and allure of the being impetuous.

A person can be both old and impetuous. We learned that this week.

We said yes. Yes to Tempest. Yes to a retired sled dog being sent via air cargo from Anchorage, Alaska, to Milwaukee, Wisconsin. Yes to not having a clue if we could handle the dog once she was here. Yes to opening the door of the crate to clip on a leash. Yes to petting a sweet, scared dog’s beautiful head. Yes to watching our new dog lay in the sun next to our old dog. Yes to firing up our laptops to work on the back porch, checking what’s due and when and making sure everyone gets fed on time.

Yes to what’s next.

You see, it’s not about the dog. It’s about the decision to get the dog.