With dogs, life is compressed. It is one of those things that makes life with them so intense, so emotional sometimes, so powerful. Their lives are short, their bodies change and evolve quickly. Fate is on the cusp, in between being a puppy and a young lady. Her legs are long and lanky, she has a regal bearing sometimes, she is sure of herself, full of personality, curious, loving, in perpetual motion.

Once or twice in day, always towards the evening, she will rest, only if Maria and I are still and not near the door. I get the sense she is pausing, in a month or two she be in adolescence, then soon enough in middle age. This is the wonder and drama and beauty of the dog, if we are wise and strong enough to accept. Dogs give us the choice of mourning all the time – they move through life quickly – or celebrating all the time.

We barely get used to one phase of their lives, and we are in another. How long ago was it that I brought her out to sheep every morning, watched her wide eyes open in amazement. She had found her purpose in life, how often do we get to see that?

Life compressed, engaging us, enchanting us, moving on, as spirit creatures do when their work is done. So much to see and feel. Can a candle that burns that bright keep the flame going forever. No, not forever. In their lives, we see the mirrors of our own, that is why we love them so much.

I choose to celebrate their vibrant lives, just my own choice. It seems like yesterday that Fate came, a crazy little puppy racing around like a bird. Now, she is one of those dogs that share the passages of our lives, eager to be in Maria’s studio, to work with sheep, to run in the woods, to ride in the car, to hop up in my lap and chew on my ear. Last night, lying on her bed on the floor, she looked like a dog of entitlement, a young lady.