Pawprints

One night, I had a dream. I dreamt I was walking along the beach, with my MONKEY-PERSON. Across the sky flashed scenes from my life. For example, my brief imprisonment in Athens, Georgia; cantering chest-deep through Pennsylvanian snow falls; killing a heat-addled sparrow last month with a crushing pounce out of the shadows . . . And even though this next part doesn't really make any sense, for each of these scenes, I noticed two sets of pawprints in the sand: one belonging to me, and the other to my MONKEY-PERSON . . .

And when the latest scene from my life flashed before, I looked back at the pawprints in the sand. I noticed that many times along the path of my life, there was only one set of pawprints. I also noticed that it happened at the very best and most wonderful times in my life.

I thought about this, and I questioned my MONKEY-PERSON about it: "MONKEY-MAN, you said that once you sprung me from that jail cell in north Georgia, you'd walk with me everywhere. But I have noticed that in the best times of my life, there was only one set of pawprints. I don't understand why."

My MONKEY-PERSON replied: "My precious little wolf-cub, I love you and I would never leave you of my own free will. But during your times of Abundance and Joy, when you see only one set of pawprints, it was then you slipped the leash, or bolted through an open door, and ran off without me!"

Hallie