Fanny

When we walked into the kennel room at the SPCA on Friday, March 27, most of the dogs got very excited – jumping up their windows and barking for attention.  But Fanny sat quietly, wagging her tail and gazing at us.  We weren’t planning on a  puppy and Fanny is only 7 months old, but there was a sweetness and calm about her that immediately appealed to us.  She was the only dog we asked to spend time with, and it was clear right away that we could be a family.  Hazel (the cat) was the only unknown.  But when we brought Fanny home and introduced them, Fanny dropped right down into a submissive posture, and Hazel accepted her.  So we have a lovely puppy to raise, already a sweet companion.  She plays with toys like a puppy, and she and Hazel have occasional chases, but she’s incredibly well behaved and easy to manage.  She does have an unfortunate taste for books and socks, but that will just encourage us to be a little tidier. Anything on the floor is fair game.

Spring seems like a perfect time to have a young life in our home.  Winter isn’t done with us, but the end is in sight.  There are buds on Louise’s lilac bushes, and her daffodils are up in profusion.  The maple just south of us is thick with red leaf covers, and everywhere in the woods leaves are budding.  Branches and twigs that looked so lifeless and glum just days ago are making it clear that they’ve only been waiting for the longer, warmer days. We may get snow next week, and temperatures back down in the twenties, but the new life is strong enough to persevere. The morning air is rich with birdsong.  Worms in the road, caterpillars and a salamander. The chipmunks are out and about, and I saw my first rabbit of the season. This cycle doesn’t ever get boring.  New life always seems miraculous. 

This spring is especially exciting for me visually.  I’ve had cataracts removed from both eyes and corrective lenses implanted.  After some 65 years of starting every day with putting on glasses and ending every day with taking them off, there’s nothing between my face and the world, and I can see perfectly.  It’s pretty amazing! On top of that, we just got the windows washed, so the world is incredibly bright and clear.  The detail during the day is delightful, but the biggest impact is on driving at night which I had become increasingly anxious about.  I drove home in the rain last Wednesday night and I could see the little brown bunny sitting in the brown grass at the edge of the road perfectly clearly well before I was upon it.  What a relief to not be gripping the steering wheel worrying about what I couldn’t see.  And what a joy to see all the new life in its delicate detail.

It’s no accident that we celebrate Passover in the spring. The egg and the greens on the seder plate are surely descendants of age old rituals welcoming rebirth.  But we’ve layered over that simple biological story with a story of freedom, of emerging from slavery, of wandering our way to peoplehood.  I’ve been studying the Book of Numbers with Rabbi Molly Karp, a favorite teacher, and a lovely group of students.  The discussions have given new depth to the question of how we find our way – or fail to find our way – from slavery to freedom.  Numbers looks at that journey on a macro level, but for me, it’s a constant part of growing up.  I’m always finding ways in which I’m a slave to some prejudice, some ignorance, some habit.  I’m always finding resistance to change in myself, reluctance to accept a new challenge, to find a new faith.  I’m always shaking off the stiffness of winter and looking for the new growth of spring.  A puppy is a good teacher.