It’s Just What You Do For Family

Do you ever wonder if you’re missing incredible stuff that’s right in front of you?

I see some of the coolest things on the bike path. Maybe it’s because I’m moving slowly, but I encounter brand new insights on routes I’ve traveled dozens of times.

Recently I approached a group of cyclists, looked like mom and a couple of kids on small bikes, from behind. She towed one of those “kid-carriers” while a beautiful, energetic chocolate lab ran beside her on a leash. Nothing particularly remarkable about that set-up—looked like another mom getting some fresh air with kids and dog. Then I passed her.

In the kid-carrier was another full-sized chocolate lab.

Now that’s not a common sight, so I waited for her. As she approached I pointed to the trailer and said, “Okay, I have to ask.” She smiled, stopped, and introduced me to Jake, who clearly wanted to continue his run, and Mike, who was perfectly content to sit in the shade and watch the world pass by.

Interesting that I got the dogs’ names but not the owner’s, though that happens all the time with Monte. I’m accustomed to being “Monte’s owner.”

Eighteen-month-old Jake had no clue why they were stopped in the middle of a concrete path with nothing interesting to sniff or chase. This bike ride had been a daily family ritual for eleven years, since Mike was a puppy. Soon after Jake joined the family and their trips to the park, Mike began to slow down until he could trot only a half-mile or so, which wasn’t even a warm-up for Jake.

For a few days they did a short ride with Mike, then dropped him at home. But nobody felt right leaving Mike peering at them through the window.

She told me one of her kids suggested the trailer as a way to keep Mike involved. Now each morning both dogs brought their leashes when they saw water bottles being filled, and everyone took off together. Mike ran until he was too tired, then jumped into the trailer and rode along like the elder statesman.

Jake had already greeted me, sniffed to check me out then licked my face. She pulled forward so I could say hello to Mike.

He sniffed a bit less eagerly, licked the back of my hand, then sat back quietly. I noticed the gray around his nose and mouth, but the eyes still had that clear, trusting smile. He was happy to allow me to scratch his ears, but he wasn’t exerting any excess energy.

I patted Mike’s head one final time and turned back to the lady. “That’s an amazing story.”

She smiled. “Not really. It’s just what you do for family.”

I’m glad I was wearing sun glasses—kept her from seeing the tears as we parted.

Like I said—I see the coolest things on the bike path.

I can think of many lessons from this encounter—how about you? Please leave a comment and share what this story says to you.