My friend’s dog once caught a squirrel, after years of chasing them. The basset hound, Millie, with the squirrel under her paw…suddenly didn’t know what to do. She looked up, droopy-eyed, to her owner.
“Let it go, Millie,” he instructed.
She obediently lifted her paw, and the critter frantically scampered to tree-high safety.
The hound, in a sense, is the me who runs after excitement and new possibilities.
I want it, the chase is fun, the work a thrill!
But…once caught…the game is over.
And so am I.