Two years ago, an eager young man peeked warily through the cracks in a barn door, anxiously anticipating what waited on the other side, struggling mightily to remain polite as he waited for the kindly old farmer’s welcome.  But this 27-year-old man was five years old again at the threshold of the Christmas den.  Finally, mercifully, the old man pushed the wide barn door open as the young man stood and imagined a hundred times every instant the moment that he would rush in.  But he didn’t rush in.  He couldn’t.  As beatific a scene as the barn had been when he first saw it, waiting so patiently for nothing more than time in this lush valley, what was inside the barn was magic, pure magic.  Where the young man had once peeked, the sun now pried with a thousand crepuscular eyes searching the barn through the hay-haze into every corner until it found what the boy had come looking for.  And the boy stood at the door.

The old man himself had paused to await the boys charge.  And when there was none, the old man led the procession.  The boy, humbled by the old man’s resolve in the midst of such wonderment dutifully followed the old man into the barn until he heard the sound.  And then the boy needed no guide.  But the old man continued ahead to join the sun at the stall to witness the imminent spectacle that followed, creeping ever faster behind.  The old man leaned against the wall of the stall and removed his cap, ostensibly to dab his forehead.  He stood respectfully inconspicuous, now invisible to the the boy as the boy came upon the stall.

The boy, seeing then what he had been imagining, was in an instant an unrestrained flurry and fury of joy.  He leapt into the hay bed.  The old man’s dog seemed to share the old man’s uncommon patience and perhaps his appreciation for the boy’s exuberance as the boy excitedly handled each of her pups.  And as the boy was awash in happiness, so was he nearly overcome with uncertainty.  Each pup was equally perfect, perfectly amazing.  Then the dog shifted as she lay, uncovering the smallest of the lot.  If one could be forgiven for believing her to be so human, it was as if she had tucked her most special and favored away, certain that no one could appreciate him as much as she, until, upon seeing the rapture in the boy at her other pups, she realized that her smallest and most cherished would be safe in his care.  As the boy bowed to reach for the puppy, the scene came complete.  In his arms, the pup gently licked the boy’s face and the moment was as the sun, the barn, the old man… timeless.

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A year later, last year, Candice and I, with ACe in tow as always, had come to Houston for a Williams-family dinner a month after Grandpa had passed.  It was, as all of our family gatherings are, another genuinely wonderful time.  But I needed a moment to think and so I went outside with ACe.  ACe is and has always been very well-behaved off his leash, so we rarely use one.  He sits and waits at street corners, minds curbs, streets and driveways and will stay in the yard, any yard, if you tell him to.

[My wife's dad would beg to differ about the yard thing, but you see, his yard has a fence.  Fences are for pets.  So, naturally, ACe always leaves his yard, not to run away, explore, dig up a garden, chase squirrels, and the like but to come and sit at the front door where he patiently waits for someone to invite him in with the rest of the people.  But I digress.]

ACe minds very well.  And so it was surprising when he darted across the street.  I had been absorbed in some profound reflection and was irked at the distraction.  In a neighbor’s driveway, ACe turned and stopped, wagging his tale and panting excitedly.  I barked sternly at him to come back, but he sat instead, mouth still wide.  So I crossed the street, determined to remind him who was boss. When I came to him and looked down…

It was pleasantly surreal.  When I had fully appreciated what he seemed to say, and after a couple photos for evidence, my friend and I walked side-by-side back to my Uncle’s house.

I’m leery of anthropomorphics, but one could be forgiven for finding the humanity in the moment.   Mostly though, I found joy in the moment.  ACe brings so much joy to so many moments.   He is truly an amazing companion and ACe has never met anyone who would disagree.  With such a buddy, people seem to expect some grand, magical introduction to go along with equally rich stories.  But our experience is rarely as pastoral as it feels.  As is often the case, sometimes the actual facts are just simple, inane, seemingly unworthy of the Story.

Regarding the story at the barn, you may already know the young man and his puppy.  If you do, I’d sure like to meet them.  It sounds like a swell time.  For our part, ACe was a four-week-old pup dumped at a gas station up the street.  A local had unceremoniously plucked him from in front of an oncoming truck and left him with Candice and I as we sat outside my house eating Italian ice.  He was riddled with fleas and swollen with worms.  I had initially planned on taking him to the shelter the next morning.  In short, our introduction was hardly novelic.

I think that I’m like a lot of people in wanting to share my experiences in one way or another.  So, then, it can be disappointing when I can’t describe what I know with the facts I am given.  But then again, it turns out to be a unique kind of treat when I am alone in my appreciation.  Then I am left with no other chore but to bask in it.

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