Now that the weather is getting warmer, my dog, India, has wanted to extend our walks.

She will sit down on the sidewalk and resist gentle tugs on the leash when she knows we’re within a few paces of my building’s front door.  (Who would have imagined 24 pounds of furry canine flesh could exert such force?). It would be hard not to get the message.

She wants to stay out.

She also will accelerate at Porsche-like speed when she sees a squirrel scurry up a tree.  After sniffing around the tree’s base and looking up into where the scent trailed off, you can see her become frustrated that she can’t continue her chase.

It’s even worse when she sees a few robins or sparrows on the ground nearby.  She’ll walk along on our path very nonchalantly, as if she doesn’t care about them, then pick her moment to nearly tug my arm out of its socket, as I hang on to her leash, so she can pursue them.

But she never catches up to them before they take flight.  She can’t understand why she can’t fly.

Of course, this fascinates me.

Yes, there’s something rooted in her spaniel and poodle DNA that drives her to pounce after an animal that’s smaller than she is.  She suspects it could be something to eat.  At least, to her, chasing this other creature is, undeniably, good sport.

But there appears to be more to this.

When people use BIRD as a metaphor or reference BIRD-LIKE qualities as a way to convey a special significance or to color their speech, their meanings might vary.

While actually eating a hefty amount in proportion to their weight, people often use the expression, “You eat like a bird,” to describe a thin, and likely finicky, person.

When many people think of birds, their minds conjure up images of singular grace.  Whether they’re thinking of small species, gray and pedestrian looking when spotted up close on the ground, or fixated on large and majestic birds, they likely dwell on the image the bird gliding with open wings, soaring in flight.

When my dog considers birds, not normally looking to the sky for brilliance and meaning, I think she dwells on their moment of TAKE-OFF, when they actually release gravity’s hold on them and find it natural to move in the atmosphere above us silly humans.

Perhaps, she wonders what makes a bird know it can fly.  She wants to fly, too.

That birds can fly frustrates her – but inspires her, too.

I think she dreams about birds when she sleeps.  I watch her belly move slowly as her breath moves in and out of her distended and relaxed belly. Laying sprawled out on her side, she’ll occasionally twitch her leg.

Perhaps, she’s imagining her own moment of TAKE-OFF.

My dog India inspires me.

Lately, I’ve been thinking about my own desires to expand the reach of my writing, my gratitude practice; this blog.

I’ve tried different things in the past.  I gave free talks. I’ve guest blogged.  I’ve looked into social media help. I’ve appealed to friends to share my url among their circles.  I’ve asked people to like me on facebook.

If I was a sparrow in my neighborhood, I probably would still be on the ground. Maybe I’d be looking for crumbs under the neighbor’s bushes, or brazenly walking behind the Volvo station wagon a few driveways down the block.  It never seems to leave its parking spot.

I expect to continue to trial different methods of outreach.  This brings me back to my dog…and why she inspires me.

She’s FEARLESS and is not affected by anyone else’s view of her.  Even a wildly barking boxer or Doberman mix, restrained on a leash held by a watchful owner or pacing along the inside a yard’s fence, doesn’t bother her.

If barked at, she barks back. No one ever makes her think of herself as small.

And she forgets her disappointments and frustrations shortly after they occur.

She will chase squirrels and pounce after birds tomorrow and the day after. Even after many unsuccessful attempts, I don’t think taking flight seems impossible to her.

Keeping inspiration close at hand is no small thing.