2016 is here, and we already had to say goodbye to one of my oldest friends. He's been with us for 13 and a half years and now he is no more. Instead of mourning him and feeling sad, I'll try my best to keep him around by being more like him. So here are my good intentions for this year:
He never had an excuse, if you wanted to go for a run he was there. All it took was the smell of running shoes, and he'd be excited. Sometimes I couldn't get out of bed for an early run so he'd go running with my dad. In the evening I'd just have to put on my running shoes and he was there. Excited. He never complained about it being cold, being too early, having pain, rain, he'd just run.
He committed himself completely. He never knew how far we'd be running. The first 5K he'd run passed us, only to double back when he couldn't see us, sprint back and do it all over again.
Even if he was dog tired, he ran with us to complete whatever goal we were trying to reach.
He trained for several marathons, but never ran one, he didn't care, he just ran.
He didn't have Strava or a heart rate monitor, it didn't stop him, he just ran.
He had no special shoes or running gear, he just ran.
I can only dream to run like him.
I could come home at 4 in the morning, drunk and barely able to put my key in the lock, still he'd be there: happy to see me. I could roll up beside him in his basket, he'd give me a lick and started snoring again.
You could wake him at any time, he'd always be happy and up for anything. Even in his older years he'd drag himself from his bed, just to see if someone wanted to go for a run.
He once scraped his balls over a barbed wire, they were shaven badly. He didn't mind, he was happy someone applied lotion to his balls each night.
He could stop mid-stride to sit and lick his balls, he always made time for that. He could be fast asleep only to wake and start licking his balls, he was the ultimate time manager. Testicular cancer never stood a chance, he'd find the a lump within the hour.
I've never seen him have a bad day, have a temper, or snap at someone. He didn't worry about the next day, he was happy with just being happy. He always committed himself to being as happy as he could be.
I can only dream to be as happy as he was.
He was never a big fan of regular food, but cat food or spaghetti, he'd finish that before the cat even knew what hit her. He didn't sneak around to eat it, he liked his cat food and he was bold an unashamed when he ate it.
I can only dream to be as bold and unashamed.
I've never seen him hostile to anything, cats, kids, statues of sheep; he always met them with interest and kindness. If you had a wound, he'd lick it clean; if you were sad he'd lay his head on your knee. If you were happy, he was happy. He just didn't like man with grey hair, never understood why, they just irked him.
I can only dream to be so kind to everyone no matter how small or big.
Even in his later years, when he had trouble walking and running, he'd still beg to go out for his nightly walk. I like to think he did this more for us than for him, it gave us 5 minutes to do nothing more than watch him inspect a route he walked for 13 years. He attacked that route each day as if it was the first time he ever laid eyes on it.
From 10pm on he started getting restless. He didn't beg, he just started keeping around the person he thought was most likely to go out with him.
I can only dream to be as curious.
Mozes, my dear friend, you will be missed by everyone that ever petted you. You've always had wisdom in your eyes, even when doing the most stupid things, you did them with a certain gravitas.
You were my pet,
my friend,
my companion
and a king among dogs.
I'll miss you old friend.
For now, I can only dream to meet you again.
Piet.
