Article 3 - "A DOG'S VIEW" AUGUST 2006 edition of First Church of The Streets

    We were making our approach to our first destination, Bushkill Falls in Pennsylvania. I think that our dog, MacGyver was more excited than we were. If I ever forgot to enjoy the moment, I just had to watch him. He never seemed to forget.

    Since joining our family three years earlier, MacGyver had spent a great deal of time on the road with us, becoming a dog almost more at home on a trip than hanging around the backyard. He'd been on road trips to Florida, state parks on Long Island, and occasional weekend jaunts around the Northeast. Like us, this trip would be his biggest and longest.

    I wonder if he knew what was up, or if he was so ensconced in the excitement of each moment that passed that even if he could comprehend the meaning of a long road trip, he absolutely didn't care. His eyes were lasers out the side window, and sensing that we were beginning to slow down, he jumped back and forth from my lap in the passenger seat to his side view window behind the driver's seat. He knew this van meant adventure, and he was ready to live up to every minute of it.

    There's nothing like a new destination to find a place within yourself that maybe you didn't know about before. As I watched MacGyver in his enthusiasm, I went from fretting about directions and plans, to realizing that this was a place I'd never been to before, and probably would never be again. This was true again for any particular time and place, as routine is never exactly the same one day from the next; each day with its own unique whorl of fingerprint. Never was it more evident than in a place never seen, and it was ironic to witness myself sink into comfortable patterns of worrying if everything was just right, forgetting where and who I was.

    Watching MacGyver's exuberance, I remembered. We'd figure out the right exit to take and find the turnoff. In the meantime, there were the trees passing by us, a bright sunny day that cradled the beginning of our trip, and nothing to rush for or be concerned about, if I remembered to just let it go.

    MacGyver jumped his way up onto my lap again, staring out like a sentry to scour out the smallest fun detail. Even petting him couldn't disturb his post. He stood on my lap to attention, ears up, eyes focused, nose pressed up against the glass of the door as though it was an inconvenient barrier to his findings. He was ready to experience the next delight that was in store for us. I looked out the window with him, siphoning his simple joy by paralleling him.

    Of course we found the turnoff, the exit, and everything else we were looking for. The Tom Petty song we'd heard on the way over couldn't have said it better: that most things that you worry about don't even happen. I gave MacGyver a quick hug as we pulled into our parking space at Bushkill Falls, and set him down to get him and myself ready for our first destination. Sometimes it paid to have a dog's view.