I took Red out into the back pasture today. He sat quietly and looked out to where the sheep were, probably using his smell and hearing. Fate was zooming past him and the sheep in great circles, Bud tore off into the pasture and the woods looking to run down some sound.

Red was still as stone. He never shifted, moved, turned his head, or made a sound. He seemed so content to me, just to be out there, on a hill.

I learn something from each my dogs. Rose’s great sense of responsibility. Bud’s eagerness to show up and live life in the now, not the past. But most of all from Red’s grace.

There are different definitions of grace, from the religious – virtue and approval coming from God – to the secular, a disposition  to acceptance, kindness, courtesy or mercy.

Red must be hurting, from what I know of his spinal injury. It must be disorienting for him to not be able to see five feet in front of him. He must be anxious on some level over his inability to herd sheep, to do what he has always done, to hear commands, to intimidate the sheep, to jump easily into a car, or climb a step with confidence.

But he never reveals any of those things. Red is kind and generous, his therapy instincts and  responses are as keen as  ever.

During my reading hour yesterday at the Mansion, he went around the room, offering himself to almost every person in the room. None of them did or could possibly have guessed about his changes and  discomfort.

He is the consummate professional, working efficiently and courteously, aways. He shows kindness to us, to Fate, to the sometimes obnoxious pest Bud. He is courteous and appropriate at all times with all people.

But guards him like a brother.

And he understands mercy in an intuitive and constant way. He is merciful to the Mansion residents, to the sheep, certainly to me, his devotion to me never fails. He is always with me, watching me, being with me.

Red shows me the power of grace as he approaches his own appointment with destiny and fate. We shall all end, me and Red, and I will not forget his courage and acceptance of nothing less than life.

When the time comes, I hope I will do as well.