What Do You See?

This is Fiver. He's family.

And while we're on the topic of Fiver's kin... a recent DNA test confirmed what we’d long suspected--that at least one Chesapeake Bay Retriever had come sniffing 'round his family tree once upon a time. There may have been other visitors too: a Siberian Husky, a Belgian Sheepdog, a Portuguese Podengo Pequeño (¿qué?), a Wirehaired Pointing Griffon, and a Chinese Shar-Pei.

But that’s just silly ol’ science talking. Here's the real Fiver:

In his youth, at his peak weight of 92 pounds, he moved with the grace of a dancer. He loves to lie on the floor with his person resting her head on his shoulder, and he reminds me of Stephen Fry as Jeeves--treating us ladies and gentlemen with deference, though his IQ has an extra number in it.

Unlike other Americans, Fiver has no birth certificate on file in a government archive. His first recorded history was scribbled on a piece of paper and stuck to a chain link door in a shelter: Stray.

Which brings me to the crux of my post today: What’s up with us humans?

Some of us look directly at an unearthed diamond, a wet masterpiece, a rare gift from some spiritual place… and see nothing worth hanging onto.

Let’s set it free to roam the streets and assume everything turns out all right.

And others--like my dear friend, Fiver's person--visit a shelter and come home with the grand prize. For the next 13 years she feels graced by his presence. Cared for. Loved beyond all reason.

I was thinking this morning that the first person in Fiver's life couldn't have understood him for what he was. That person only saw a possession he was done with. And it made me wonder if I might be missing out on some big juicy truths in the world because of my blind spots.

So today I'm going to spend a few minutes looking at one thing other people adore that I can't be bothered with. I'll try to shift my thinking to see if I can find the wonder in it.