Although our seven-month-old puppy doesn't run to his water bowl as often as I think he should when he is inside, on a hot day outside, he's nose to the water.
Inside, once he starts to drink, he'll lap up the whole bowl. It's as if the first taste signals his brain that this is what he needs. Outside, the first sniff of water pulls him over.
Right after a rain, I don't mind letting the puppy drink a little from a puddle. The water is fresh enough. Otherwise, I keep him away from water that I know I should not drink. Beside the road away from the water, there are many swampy places. After a rain, the water looks clear and fresh, but I know that the fresh rain water has mixed with the water that has been sitting there and may be contaminated. While the streams run after a rain, I know that these have the same issue. They are unfiltered, falling through the cracks in the limestone. And in one place, I know that water comes straight from a beaver pond. Giardia, or beaver fever, and other bacteria can flourish in all of these places.
The poor puppy does not understand. He smells water and wants to drink. I carry a portable water bottle, but I think he smells the rubber of the cup more than the water it holds. We end these hot walks back home on the shore where he puts his feet in the bay and laps up all he can drink. The risk of contamination in this constantly moving water is small, and he longs for this water.
There is a hymn based on psalm forty-two that begins, "As the deer pants for the water, so my soul longs after you; you alone are my heart's desire and I long to worship you." The chorus is even more positive, "You alone are my strength, my shield, to you alone may my spirit yield; you alone are my heart's desire and I long to worship you."(Voices United p 766) I chose this hymn often as the melody is soothing and the words so very positive.
I'm not sure I am ever that single minded, but these days, it is the second version of the hymn, one I never asked people to sing, that resonates with me. "As the deer seeks flowing waters, weary from the chase, so my soul, O God, is thirsting to behold your face." (Voices United p 767) The rest of the hymn picks up different themes from the biblical psalm: longing for relief, a feeling of being abandoned, wondering why sadness and trouble last so long.
The depth of despair expressed in that psalm doesn't quite fit my mood either. I'm okay. But picking up the computer to write this column takes more work each week. I look at the forecast and groan, because I have to fit in watering all the plants in pots again. I'm plodding through the days.
I think the problem is that I don't know what to hope for. Once the reality of the pandemic sunk in, I adjusted my life patterns completely to keep me, my family, the people I worked with safe. Once the vaccines started to roll out, I hoped for the time when things could open up again. I accepted the idea that when seventy-five percent of people were vaccinated, we'd be able to get back to normal. The delta variant has changed that. Health professionals are starting to talk about a ninety percent benchmark. There are more reports of breakthrough cases in fully vaccinated people. It feels like covid is not going away any time soon.
Some days I can blithely say that I won't mind getting the flu shot and the covid booster every fall if that is what it takes. And nice summer weather has allowed for several visits with friends and family. I'm not as isolated as I was. I've picked up some regular activities, modified to reflect covid restrictions.
There are times when like our puppy stepping into the cool bay and lapping up its water, I can relax and absorb the goodness of the moment. And fortunately, I am not pulled to drink the stagnant water. But I think that I have finally absorbed the idea that the old normal isn't coming back, and walking into the unknown is never easy.
Cathy Hird lives on the traditional territory of the Saugeen Ojibway
