Sniffer’s gonna sniff: a story about my amazing dogs and something important I lost

It’s a beautiful day.

Nashvillians are entering into the time of year that makes cold winters bearable. Days where the sun is bright and warm, and winter ice is a thing of the past. One day not too long ago was one of these days, so I went for a hike at Percy Warner Park in west Nashville, dogs in tow. It was beautiful. The way the sun cut through the towering trees. The sounds of animals foraging through the woods. Small flowers blooming. Runners running. Sniffy dogs sniffing. Our 5-mile walk concluded a few hours later and as I reached into my pocket for the car keys, slight concern. I don’t feel them. Panic. I check other pockets. I check all the pockets. Reality washing over me like any adult man at a Justin Bieber concert. How did it end up like this? What do I do now? Lucky for those adult men, they can just go home. Me? Nope. I might as well not have even had a car there, because without that little piece of carved metal, I wasn’t getting in. I wasn’t going home. Plus, who’s the dummy who’s got two fingers and left his phone in the car? This guy.

And I was like baby, baby, baby.

I said to my babies, we need to walk the trail again. And please keep in mind the farthest either of my dogs have ever gone is 6 miles. We already walked 5 miles, and now I’m taking them for 5 more. I felt terrible, like I was asking too much of them. If you do the math, it was not too far south of a half marathon.

Hello darkness my old friend.

It was completely dark when we completed the trail for the second time and I couldn’t have been more proud of my pups. They seemed to end stronger than they began, pulling towards squirrels, barking at deer, walking with perked ears as we rounded the final curve. We saw lots of wildlife, lots of things that weren’t keys. And now my car is one of the last 2 or 3, and the others are firing up to take their drivers home. I didn’t feel compelled to ask for assistance from the other park patrons, in fact, I felt compelled not to. So there I was sitting by a car I can’t get in, much less drive!

Islands in the stream, that is what we are.

The plan at this point was to befriend a volleyball and hope for a ship to pass by. Wait no, we weren’t that hopeless yet! I approached a house close to the park entrance and the nicest of ladies, Susan, offered so much help. She even brought out a laptop so I could email my friend “Bill.” Yeah, remember how I didn’t have my phone? I also don’t know anyone’s phone number! So email was the next best thing.

Police on the scene, you know what I mean?

After firing off an email, I returned to my car. It was weird sitting there not even knowing if the email was received, and yet, believing that the electronic flare would be seen and rescue was on the way. And it was, in more ways than one. The local police came by to lock up the parking lot, as they do every night, I’m sure, and the officer gave me a ride to police headquarters. My first time in the back of a cop car. It was nice. Very comfortable. I asked about the car and the lady officer informed me it was a Volkswagon Passat. Very cool. Arriving at the station, they were kind, helpful, and were over-the-top with Piper and Asia. They had treats, food, water, and plenty of back scratches that I know Piper and Asia appreciated. They brought me to a computer so I could check my email (to see if “Bill” had responded or anything). That’s when another officer stopped by and handed me a slip of paper. On it was “Bill”‘s phone number! Apppparrrrrentllyyy, nice lady Susan called up the police with this bit of information that was anything but itty bitty! Susan was a life saver! It was a pretty amazing moment. “Bill” arrived about 10 minutes later and took me home.

You live, you learn. You laugh, you learn.

The next day “Bill” and I did one more search without success and then I called to have a key made. From this experience, I learned a few things. Always have a spare key. Having friends is good, having good friends is better. Wear pants with bigger pockets. Sometimes dogs will surprise you. There are a lot of squirrels. As bad as it seems, it could be worse. This will be a landmark time in my life because of the amount of loss that came in a short span. I lost this set of keys on  a Saturday. The following Tuesday, I lost my job. Crazy right?

-Out of the Wilderness

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Thank you, India… and Other Favorite Names

I bet you didn’t think this post would be about Alanis Morissette, did you? Well, you’re in the ball park of being right. I heard her on the radio and totally forgot about the song “Thank U.” She wrote it after a memorable trip to India, so that’s why the chorus repeats “Thank you, India.” As for why she’s naked in the music video, I have no idea. I’m sure it’s something about being vulnerable or government oppression. Hearing the song reminded me how much I like her voice, and I’m not the only one. Just 2 days ago Prakriti Mudra made the Youtube comment, “She’s one of the most amazing singers I have come across.” Thank you, Prakriti. You might have the newest entry on the list of names I really like… which is as follows:

Alanis
Nicollete
Holden (Yes, it’s the name of every mom’s favorite man from “Young and the Restless”)
Downs (as a middle name)
Kelty
Hali (pronounced ‘Holly’)
Everlyn (as heard in the movie Rabbit-Proof Fence)
Asia
Piper
Amy (an all-time favorite)
Jennifer (an all-time favorite)

-Out of the Wilderness

I Was 4 Years Old Again

When you have those rare moments that shut you up, what do you think about? When you’re not close to death, but your life flashes before your eyes, what do you do next? Are the experiences you least expect the ones you remember the most? I wasn’t expecting to get all nostalgic and deep tonight, but on the way home from work “Unglued” by Michael Tate was playing on my iPod. About halfway into it, I saw a Pinellas County license plate. All of a sudden I was a 4-year-old at Sheridan Hills Christian School. I was hearing Chariots of Fire for the first time on the piano. I was encountering my first bully. I was playing with a spritely beagle puppy named Belle. I was hugging a giant teddy bear that Mom-Mom and Pop just gave me. I never thought of being a 33-year-old guy. But if I did, would the life I imagined back then look anything like what it is now? I don’t feel like an adult. But I don’t feel young. I’m rich in some ways and poor in others. I’m wise sometimes and others, a fool. I have moments of pure genius and others that set me back 5 years. I’m happy but frustrated. I’m strong but naive. Life is good, but not as good as it could be, or will be. Alanis Morissette would call that ironic. Katy Perry might call it being hot and cold. I just call it being 33 years old. I just call it a 33-year-old with the giant teddy bear he still has and the belief that the little 4-year-old he once was is going to turn into something great.