I named my dog after an explosion – for the flash of light, a sudden brightness, that occurs when one of the stars in a binary system syphons matter off of the other. The rapid fusion of hydrogen causes the brightening of the star, visible light years away. This is called a nova.
I named my dog for a star, but Nova has given me the sunrise.
She and I went for a run. We went for a little over two miles before she started to lag and I turned us toward home.
Once we got in the door, I refilled her water bowl. I set out her kibble. Then I stepped through my morning. Small talk with a roommate. A hot shower, finger combing my hair. Through it all, I felt light, bright.
I never used to feel this way so early in the mornings. But I feel this way now.
Not every day, of course. Some mornings the sound of her tags jingling at 6 am elicits a groan as I drag myself, dizzy from sleep. This usually happens when an upset stomach or too much water has her waking me up at midnight, 3 am, 4 am.
But it’s anything, anytime for her.
Mornings aren’t so bad when I spend the first hour with no one but her. Her and me and the sunrise to the east and the alpenglow to the west and the neighborhood foxes glaring from the scrub line.
And the rabbits, of course. They are Nova’s favorite part.
Thank you, Nova Pop. You rescue me every morning.
Sidecountry Living 