LUCKY IS MESSING WITH MY MIND AGAIN.

LUCKY IS MESSING WITH MY MIND AGAIN.

Lucky the Quantum Dog has been a veritable inspiration; a treasure who has made me think, and question, and expand my mind.

I have always had niggling doubts whether the journeys on which he has previously taken me, and the insights thereby derived, were ‘real’ – whatever that is. Maybe they were just the normal hallucinations experienced by someone who chooses to live a reclusive existence.

Tonight was different. Lucky dropped in, and after the usual waggy greetings, ran straight inside. So I fed him, gave him water, played a game of tag, patted him and then told him it was time to go home. He stared at me. “I’ve got some work to do”, I said. He snorted, ignored me and continued his ‘let’s-slap-both-front-paws-on-the-floor-then-race around-like-loons’ routine.

So I eventually lured him outside, patted him again, said my goodbyes and made it clear that I was going back in the house and he wasn’t. He took it with his usual good nature, and I watched him as he trotted out the gate. But as he did, he stopped, looked over his shoulder, and laughed. I mean, really laughed in that unmistakable doggy fashion. He knew something that I didn’t.

So I went inside, closed and locked the front door – the only access to the house – and went out to the back. And who was there, waiting for me, paws slapping on the floor? Yes, Lucky. “You didn’t finish the game,” he said.

“How the hell did you get in?” I demanded. “Through the door,” he replied, with a look of vast innocence. “No, you didn’t,” I retorted. “I closed it, and locked it.” Lucky looked at me as if I was The Renon Village Idiot. “The door? It’s just made of atoms,” he said. “Just like me. Do you know how much space there is between atoms? Those atoms are a looooooong way from each other. Nothing is ‘solid’ the way you humans think of it. I just go through the spaces. Easy. You could too if you weren’t so attached to human ‘logic’.” And he laughed again.

So of course, we played again, and when he was satisfied, he left of his own accord.

Now I know I didn’t imagine what he did tonight. He was outside. Then he was inside. And all because he wanted to play.

Maybe as we humans grow older we forget how to play – fully and in the now. And maybe when we actually do want to play, we don’t believe that it is possible to simply get what we want. Maybe that’s why humans rarely achieve miracles.

Lucky doesn’t have those sorts of limitations. He wants to play; he believes he can walk through closed doors – so he does.

What could be simpler?

Lucky

 

* by Vyt Karazija

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