Schuster is still skittish around people, even Mary and me. He will come to us but he doesn't like to be picked up. Of course, if there is a treat or if someone is eating, he is the first one on the scene and quite willing to take whatever morsel is available from our hands.
Thus, a while ago I came into the living room from the back of the house and saw Schuster and Dexter asleep on the love seat, the most comfortable seat in the entire house, naturally. They were sleeping butt to butt, east to west. I stopped, then sat down on the footstool directly in front of the love seat. Dexter slept on, Schuey and I just looked at one another. He is so beautiful, exquisite actually, the kind of creature you want to reach out and softly touch. I did. He held his head up for a bit while I stroked his back; after a few seconds he put his head back down on the cushion. Then he closed his eyes. I kept petting him, from his neck down to his butt. He slept on, didn't try to get away, didn't move.
I looked at him more closely than I had ever done before. He is exquisite. He weighs probably 12 pounds; thus he makes a delightful small bundle, especially when he is curled up a bit. What delights me most are his hairy ears. In fact if a Hobbit had a dog I am certain Schuster would be the dog, especially with his hairy ears and hairy feet and beautiful reddish coat with black accents. I kept on stroking his back, he turned on his side toward me, eyes closed.
Even with my ruined hands I can appreciate the value of touching, along with the value of sight. The more I looked the more I thought that Schuster's exquisite beauty and creatureliness are not ends in themselves but vehicles, so to speak, for directing thought and insight to the source of such beauty and being. This idea is difficult to explain, but the qualities inherent in matter, the beauty of the little dog, point to a reality beyond themselves. The little dog is beautiful whether there is anyone present to see the beauty or not. Ultimate reality is beautiful. The tangible points to the intangible. We want to own the beauty, make it our own. All we can do though is pet the little dog, and give thanks for such a goodness, and sometimes, for a moment, that is sufficient.