The Tail-Wag of Eternal Optimism

My service dog Lyla has taught me lesson in the past two months. As I have struggled with physical obstacles and sadness over loss of function so fiercely fought for, I have tried to remember that there is always hope. When Lyla lays beside me day and night, there even when I am at my worse, she always seems to hold out hope that today will be the day we will go out again. She hopes that maybe, just maybe, I will feel well enough to throw her frisbee or toss her ball. She never, ever gives up hope. On dark days of total orthostatic intolerance, she gives me a look with her big brown eyes and a tiny wag of her tail. I call it the tail-wag of eternal optimism. And isn't that exactly what dogs are? The eternally optimistic? They know you will drop food eventually, want to go for walkies one day, and give in to the urge to play with slobbery toys at some point. It is a lesson to live by, that there is always some reason to hope, some reason to be happy, and some reason to wag your tail.