The 3-legged dog

It’s pitiful to watch a 3-legged dog, you want to look away but you can’t. Whatever he does, it always leaves a bittersweet note.

For instance, watch a 3-legged dog trying to swim. You want to tell him to quit trying; you can see how much he suffers but he keeps going. You want to carry him to the other side of the river but you know that he won’t let you carry him and he knows he has to figure out his own limits. You want to help him so bad because his pain becomes yours but there’s no use in trying to help.

For instance, watch a 3-legged dog run in circles. You pity her and you want her to accept that she is disabled but she won’t let you bring her down. She still wants to play fetch with the other dogs and she still thinks that she is no different from the others.

Bittersweet, although he’s hurt, he keeps going, although he realizes that he is very different from the other dogs and has to face his pain every single day, he keeps playing – cheerfully too. The 3-legged dog is thankful for what he’s given. He’s thankful to still be able to walk and he’s grateful for having 3 legs.

A and I are like a 3-legged dog, we face our pain every single day, we still try to walk, we grit our teeth at the pain and we want to get mad. We try to cope with this and honestly, it feels unfair to having to deal with having to say goodbye yet again and knowing that the next day we won’t be able to have coffee together especially on our 2-year-anniversary.

Although we can’t participate in all the fun things all the other dogs are doing, we are grateful for the opportunities we are given. Grateful for every single moment we get to spend together.

I am grateful for A because with every step back, with every goodbye, we move 3 steps forward towards being together, permanently.