I sit outside and watch Tiger and Bella as they move their necks, heads, and bodies and explore the plants, dirt, air. Tiger is beginning to put his left paw down on the ground so healing is happening. He and Bella take turns sheltering under one particular plant.
I read some lines from the Eighth Duino Elegy by Rilke as translated by Stephen Mitchell.
With all its eyes the natural world looks out
into the Open. Only our eyes are turned
backward, and surround plant, animal, child
like traps, as they emerge into their freedom.
We know what is really out there only from
the animal's gaze; for we take the very young
child and force it around, so that it sees
objects - not the Open, which is so
deep in animals' faces. Free from death.
We, only, can see death; the free animal
has its decline in back of it, forever,
and God in front, and when it moves, it moves
already in eternity, like a fountain.
Who has twisted us around like this, so that
no matter what we do , we are in the posture
of someone going away? Just as, upon
the farthest hill, which shows him his whole
one last time, he turns, stops, lingers - ,
so we live here, forever taking leave.