Seven Sunsets by Kelly Sears

We spend a good portion of our adult life trading our time for money. College tuition for an education, 9 to 5 for our first job, morning to night for our careers. Along the way, to catch our breath, we trade our money for time. Time to escape the morning to night or nine to five. Time to breath more and stress less.

This trip we headed North. For eight days and seven nights we rented a cabin on a lake in Northern Wisconsin. Seven sunsets to relax, unwind, boat, fish, and swim. As much as this trip was for us, this trip was for Pete, our yellow lab. For 12 of his 14 years, we had a lake house, Pete’s favorite place on the planet. He rarely left the water, never was without a tennis ball to chase, or his best friend Scout that lived next door.

Pete was a puppy when he met Scout. They were instant friends. Our kitchen window faced Scout’s house and Pete would get up every morning and sit, looking out that window until his friend shot out the back door. If Scout took too long, Pete would go get him.

Scout taught Pete the proper approach and loft to a dock dive, how to stick your head under the water to nab a sinking throw toy, how to swim so fast no one will ever beat you, and in the winter, how to roll down a snow-covered hill on your side. Pete taught Scout, how to catch popcorn, and how to lay on your back and throw the ball to yourself to catch if no one would play with you.

Pete was the happiest at the lake. He never understood why we would leave. He was the first one up, the last one asleep, the wettest, the dirtiest, and the one that consistently had the most fun. Pete was fairly sure that the other stuff we did, boating, water skiing, tubing, fishing, were purely a waste of time until we could and would throw the ball for him just one more time. When Pete wasn’t at the lake, he was just as busy, running with me, hunting with Dan, jumping out of things onto things over things, a dog in constant motion a couple of years ago, Pete’s life took a turn.

Those legs that spent so many years jumping out of things, onto things, and over things began to give out. The back two would crisscross and his front shoulders struggled to pull the weight of the rest. We have done our best to keep him as pain-free as possible and as happy as he can be. One thing we know for sure is where Pete was the happiest. So, we traded our money for time, drove north, and bought seven sunsets on a lake where Pete could pretend to be a puppy again. In the water, those crisscrossed legs paddle simply fine, shoulders bear no weight, and he remembers a life lesson from Scout and can still stick his head under water to nab a sinking throw toy. Pure joy for our Pete.

We don’t know how or when this story will end but we do know this. Mother Nature and Father Time never lose so don’t wait. One day your legs will crisscross, your shoulders will struggle to pull the weight of the rest. Chase balls, swim freely, find your pure joy. A chilled cocktail for watching sunsets at the lake when Pete has you throw the ball just one more time.