When I look at Kingston Felix, I see shades of Kasper.
He has his old face, his narrow head, his long limbs.
His smile comes on inexplicably, just like his used to.
He pancakes himself on the ground the same way, hind parts sprawled out in a V.
He even pees in a similar fashion—one leg lifted but body parallel to the ground (unlike Winston’s vertical splits).
But those are where the similarities end, if you knew them both you would know that King couldn't be any more day to Kasper's night.
It made me wonder if Kasper hadn't been, at least partially, reincarnated ... until I realized Felix was here before he was ultimately gone.
Still, it made me wonder.
I wondered if Kasper would have been more like Kingston if we had had him from day one, instead of finding him in that cage at six months of age.
Not that I would press that cosmic rewind button if I could.
I believe in second chances though.
For that matter, third chances and beyond.
Fact is, with each dog that has entered my life, I have become a better person.
(my wife might disagree, in which case she can write her own essay)
They have allowed me to let go of broken promises.
By letting go, I forge a new future.
But the truth is closer to closure.
For a while, I had a habit of stopping an anime series at the penultimate episode.
I no longer have that problem—the way to overcome resolution is to not care for it.
To not yearn for it.
In the future, I will listen to the unfinished works of classical composers.
At present, I’m concerned with my father, who I can never remember being this old.
I find myself waiting for the conversation he keeps avoiding.
I’ve hinted at it but he doesn’t pick up on it, doesn’t seem inclined to.
It’s the best I can do, for this is apparently a subject that son cannot broach with father.
So I wait impatiently.
Even though time keeps running out, I impatiently wait.
For who exactly, I'm not sure.
