Leave it

I was sitting on a park bench. This book I had been looking forward to reading had developed an unfortunate pacing issue. However, I insisted on giving it one more chance before relinquishing it to the library drop box.

A friendly-looking dog, off-leash, came trodding up to me. She dropped to her belly and sniffed with great interest at something under the bench. I looked down and saw a piece of sandwich someone had dropped. The dog noisily licked her lips and inched closer.

Suddenly, a male voice firmly called, “Sadie. Leave it.”

I looked up and the man smiled at me. Upon hearing his command, the dog rose and immediately went to the man’s side, irresistible object now forgotten. Together, they continued their walk through the park.

I gazed down at the book in my lap, pondering the wonders of Sadie the Good Girl. Here I am, figuratively leashed, a rather dimwitted animal in comparison. I strain hard against my restraints, stubbornly insisting on getting my own stupid animal way. Rebellious. Frustrated.

How I wish I could master that command: ‘Leave it’. If only I could abandon the pursuit of things clearly not meant for me, without so much as a look back.

As I returned the book that afternoon, I also decided I could stand to be a lot more like Sadie.