What are you not hearing?
This morning my 8 year old Chocolate Lab named, Amos tried to tell me something-but I chose not to listen. You see we run together every morning during the week. Our normal routine is to get out around 5:45 AM, we meet up with our neighbor/friend from down the street and run about 3 miles. For the past 2 months Amos and I have been running later in the morning (when it is light outside)because our running buddy has been training for a half marathon. Last night I told Amos (I know for a fact by his wagging tale that he understands me when I tell him we are going for a run in the morning) that we were going to get up early and go for a run. So 5:30am rolls around, the alarm goes off and my feet hit the floor, I am up and ready to get dressed to run. Now, Amos is out taking his early morning potty break and I am getting dressed. When he comes in he normally sits directly to my left leg, patiently waiting for me to put on my shoes, waiting for me to go get his leash, patiently waiting to make his morning run he loves so much. Not this morning, he went back to bed. Yep, the normal typically overly excited lab went back to bed. I chopped it up to him having been out of his normal routine for the past 2 months, running later in the morning was now his normal routine--or so I told myself.
He finally pulled himself off the bed when he saw me put on my headlamp, and walked next to me to the garage to collect his leash. Once he saw his leash, the crazy boy came alive, that is until we hit the front door. He stood there looking back down the hall toward our bedroom, toward his bed. Was his bed calling his name (the time change has whipped us all)? He wouldn't budge, I had to drag him out the front door, mind you he usually takes out my left leg racing me out the front door. By this time I am thinking to myself actually saying out loud--maybe I am not meant to run this morning! Even if I wasn't "meant" to run this morning, I continued to walk down the driveway, start my sports watch and start running. Amos is lagging behind, I tug on his leash and he finally heels at my side. We run a quarter of a mile and he stops to take his normal potty break. I notice though that he is not actually "taking his potty break" he is just sniffing the ground. Ok, he is a lab with an overactive sniffer, they are born with it and it is impossible to turn it off-believe me I have tried. After standing for a few seconds letting Amos sniff, I realize that I am standing with my back to the natural wetlands/creek that runs parallel to the pathway. I have always had this secret fear that I actually spoke out loud to my husband, that something was going to jump out at me from one of the many wetlands, creeks, or bushes we run by. Now, I feel myself getting nervous, I tell Amos go potty or we are running. So we run for another quarter of a mile, nothing running in front of our path, nothing jumping out at us. We then turn down the path towards the open wetlands that is very large in size. I keep telling myself that we are just fine, Amos at this point is not acting weird, he is running right beside me. I look down at him, look up down the path and see little eyes glowing in my headlight, it is just a cute little rabbit--no concerns. So, we keep running till we hit the one mile mark, I promptly stop to recalibrate my sports watch. All this time not looking up or down the dark long path we are embarking on. Finally I look at Amos and say, are you ready? I look up and see 4 legs and these glowing eyes running right towards us. Whoolyyyy shamolly, a Coyote running right toward me. It wasn't jumping out at me but running right at me. Now, I didn't think twice, I say Coyote and run I am sure my fastest mile back home. I could hear Amos panting next to me, his little nails clipping along beside me on the blacktop, he never slowed down a bit--running like he knew "I" needed to get out of there. He wouldn't care either way-a Coyote could just be another friend to play with but for me it smelled danger all over it.
Now, was Amos actually trying to tell me at our front door, during his first "potty/sniffing" break that we should not run this morning? Was he telling me to stay home or we are going to come across a critter? Maybe, maybe not. I chose to believe that he was, because my lovable boy lives to run with me. He lives to please me, lives to just be with me, so his behavior should have been my first and only clue I needed to tell me something was amiss. Thank goodness nothing bad happened but something good came out of my morning run. I have a continuing love for my favorite chocolate buddy, a renewed belief in the law of Attraction (I put out there that something was going to cross my path) and a renewed belief in listening to your instinct. Didn't I say out loud---"maybe I am not meant to run this morning". I said it, Amos tried to show it, the Coyote proved it!
What are you not seeing or hearing?
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