I was planning to write about all of my beagles, consecutively, and then begin to talk about our latest little girl, but I took Lucy for a walk in the woods for the first time tonight, and realized that she won't be a puppy forever!
Lucy is the fourth beagle in my life, a bittersweet gift. Bitter, because of the sudden shock of losing the second Mandy beagle only this past May. And sweet, because Lucy's adorable face and floppy ears are evocative of all the beagles I have loved.
Walking a beagle is not like walking an ordinary dog, and walking Lucy is no exception. First of all, the nose tends to the ground, the scents and temptations encountered there determining the course and pace of the walk. In addition, their stubbornness can contribute to their leaping off in unexpected directions. Off-leash recall? Forget it!
Since Lucy is still a puppy, though, she has not learned the joys of unsupervised adventure. Only a week ago, as I would try to walk her more than a few yards from the house, she would flop down on her belly in the middle of our gravel driveway, refusing to budge another inch. I would struggle impart some of my enthusiasm to her, and she has gradually gone a little farther each day. Tonight we made it past five houses and we found ourselves at the entrance to neighborhood woods. It's shady coolness drew us in, and Lucy and I paused, she sniffing the underlying scents of bunnies, and birds and detritus, masked for me by the spicy fir trees.
Lucy no longer minded that we were far from home. She was intent on a dozen tantalizing trails, assailing her senses. As she walked along the forest path for the first time, I thought of the many times I had walked and prayed along those same steps with Holly, my incorrigible, manic, yet beloved Samoyed mix. We have walked in every sort of weather: on the sweet spring mornings when the wildflowers peek out in profusion, on snowy days when Holly would be in her element, racing in huge circles around me, never slacking pace, the snow clinging in icy tufts from her face, on stifling afternoons of midsummer when the air would press on us, and we would continue anyway, allured by a waft of coolness, deep within, and most of all, in the rain, pouring down from the trees and turning the path to mud. Holly was never happier than on these outings.
It was on these walks with Holly that I opened my heart to God and let the love in my heart for my children grow.
Lucy will not be a puppy forever. A large swath of the forest was denuded a decade and a half ago, replaced by gravel and blackberries and struggling scrawny firs. But for tonight, I will enjoy the evening with my newest dog, and remembering past joy, anticipating the future.
