I'm hopeful.  And not just because tomorrow is election day.  It's because hope is most needed when things are toughest.  We shouldn't mistake hope for hoping.  Hoping is something you do for good weather, a call back from the guy you went out with last Thursday, a good grade on an essay, or finding just the right dress on sale.  Hope is reserved for a nation in a lot of trouble, someone trying to recover from a bad illness, or the existence of a better place for those no longer with us. 

We lost Jilly the Coyote Dog earlier this month.  She was fourteen years old and just as much a member of our family as any one of us.  To me, she was a role model.  Who knew when we brought her home that she was more coyote than dog.  It didn't take long to figure it out what with her big ears, pack mentality, super hearing, scavenger behavior, independence, and ability to sniff out Dutch boy friends who had been smoking certain substances.  She knew exactly who she was and never waivered, even when it wasn't that popular.  She taught the younger, kinder, more spiritual Rusty how to steal food and catch things in his mouth on the fly.  She never apologized for being who she was.  When she had surgery to repair her leg, she went right back to her little bed in the back corner of the Dragonfly Room to recover and stayed there.  She instinctively knew how to heal and didn't need anyone to help her.  When Rusty got sick and passed, Jill waited by the gate for him to return.  She lost her hearing and had trouble getting up and down.  We knew things were happening quickly and decisions would have to be made.  We also knew that she would tell us, in her own way, when it was time.  One night just after midnight, we heard this gutteral howling from Jilly's room.  It continued off and on throughout the night.  She didn't seem to be in any immediate distress, it was just her way of communicating that the end was near.  She refused to take her medicine, eating the cheese but defiantly spitting out the little pill hidden inside.  She was done with medicine and was going to do things her way.  The Dutchman and the Littlest Dutch Boy took Jilly to the vet on the day of her choosing to join Rusty.  She was absolutely certain of her decision and that made things a little easier for us.  The house is so quiet now and we feel lonely and sad most of the time.  We took our first evening boat ride without either of our dogs last night and it seemed that everyone we passed had a dog on their boat.  We wanted to shout out that we had dogs, too, but of course, we don't anymore.

We sometimes find our teachers in unexpected places.  Jill understood herself completely and expected all of us to accept her as she was for exactly who she was.  She was tough and loaded with self-esteem.  She wanted love but was perfectly willing to do without it if and when necessary.  She loved to lay under the Christmas tree and didn't mind one bit if she knocked off the lower ornaments.  She adored going to the door every time the bell rang on Halloween and visiting with the little princesses, fairies and goblins.  On that one night of the year, she pretended to be a regular dog and let them pet her all they wanted.  When she was little, she never tired of racing after the colorful nerf ball over and over in the house until the Littlest Dutch Boy would get tired of throwing it and have to hide it to get her to stop bugging him.  Well, she found it every time so he had to start putting it up on the blade of the ceiling fan where she couldn't get at it.  That really made her mad and she never forgot it was up there.  She was passionate about things she loved and relentless in her pursuit of them.  Mostly, she knew how to take care of herself in all situations.  I am trying to be more like Jill.  I am hopeful I can.

I am not thinking about election day in terms of policies and taxes and all the rantings and ravings of the way too long campaign.  I am thinking of it as a symbol of the right to choose hope, a way of validating hope as a real thing.  It is hopeful to see so many people engaged in the process and caring so much about the outcome.  Hope is risky, and hearts are broken every day, but it is still a great thing to hope for.  

GR