Freedom

- Intermezzo -

Winston is usually on the slow side, but he always quickens his pace whenever my wife joins us on our walks.

For a while I thought this was because our trio suddenly became a full quartet, but now I see it otherwise.

When it’s just me, it seems Winston can tell he’s tethered to Kingston. Even though I walk them on separate leashes, I am the center of gravity pulling them together.

The problem is that Winston wants as much distance as possible, Kingston being incapable of understanding the meaning of personal space.

This was never a problem when Kasper was around. Nothing was much of a problem when Kasper was around. In fact, you could say Winston was the actual problem.

Kasper was the type of dog who accepted everybody–people and animals alike. If you’ve never experienced it, this kind of acceptance is tantamount to liberation:

Freedom.

This is probably what Winston feels when my wife is there, when she becomes the factor separating him from Kingston.

This is what I felt once I unshackled myself from my family.

With them, I only ever experienced the complete opposite of acceptance:

Slavery.

But that independence soon became a curse. They were my center of gravity; once I lost that, I couldn’t do anything other than drift aimlessly.

Then I met my wife. Then I met Kasper.

And then I finally had the right attachments to keep me grounded.

The irony is that you give up a certain amount of your newfound freedom in the process. You trade that for the responsibilities of marriage and dog ownership.

But marriage turned out to be totally different than what I initially believed. We have what I think are radically separate lives, but the resulting individual happiness we've found is what keeps us together.

Then again, no matter how separate our lives are, we willingly organize them to keep our dogs happy.

In my case, I’ve taken on the entirety of caretaking duties, seeing as how I spend all my time with them at home.

Freedom in chains–I wouldn’t have it any other way.