Anticipation is a feeling I have when I try to talk myself out of the blues. I take a walk. Maybe there will be dogs at the park and I can watch them getting the frisbee, bringing it back, tugging it the way my mutt did until I would walk away and the dog would drop into a crouch that said, “Let’s play.” I remember that crouch. It went from downward dog to child’s pose to Zen dog tail wagging and then we would leave the house, jogging along, him eager to reach a place where he could run free.
