Butterfly Had To Try
Dog and Butterfly
Lyrics by Heart
We’re getting older the world’s getting colder
For the life of me I don’t know the reason why
Maybe it’s livin’ making us give in
Hearts rolling in taken back on the tide
We’re balanced together ocean upon the sky
Another night in this strange town
Moonlight holding me light as down
Voice of confusion inside of me
No begging to go back where I’m free
Feels like I’m through
Then the old man’s words are true
See the dog and butterfly
Up in the air he likes to fly
Dog and butterfly, below she had to try
She roll back down to the warm soft
Ground with a little tear in her eye
She had to try, she had to try
Dog and butterfly
The park visitor’s dog, a little thing with a ginormous ego, snarls spittle as we pass on the path. The visitor picks up the bundle of fur and angst, fake shushes it—“Now Brutus, be nice,”—and meanders on.
Our dog, Booker, looks at us with a mixture of confusion and curiosity. He’s a big boy and never seems to understand why other dogs get in his face for just, well, being. A moment later the incident is forgotten and Booker noses his way along another enticing forest scent. My husband and I follow him in lazy contentment.
It’s a gorgeous day, and Wild River State Park is heavily populated. Hikers, campers, and river boaters absorb nature’s gifts before the clock ticks and summer is gone.
My husband, Booker, and I opt to go on a “path less traveled,” thinking we’d find more solitude, but it was not to be. Park visitors, giddy with free time and smelling of campfire smoke, appear and disappear constantly. The energy in the woods feels palpable, and I’m happy to be part of it.
After a short while, I notice a butterfly flitting and following us. I stop and it approaches. It then veers off. We play this game for quite some time. “Hang on a moment,” I say to my husband. This time I stay still and speak to it.
Butterfly Connection
“Hey, little one! Whatcha doing?” The butterfly comes to me and lands on my hand.
Another group of park visitors walks past and I’m afraid they will scare it away, but no, it stays.
“Let’s see if I can hand it off to you,” I say. I place my hand near my husband’s and sure enough the butterfly steps over onto his fingers while continuing to watch us. I take a few photos just to freeze my moment of wonderment.
My husband gently blows on the butterfly to release it back into the air. It floats and hovers nearby, catching Booker’s attention. He sees colors and movement and leaps into the air. The butterfly easily avoids his goofy attempt at predator/prey.
I smile at Booker and start humming Heart’s song, The Dog and Butterfly.
“He had to try,” I say to my husband.
“Huh?”
“It’s a song,” I say. “Never mind.” I think about how many times I have to try something, too, no matter how unlikely the outcome.
As we walk back to our vehicle I see the butterfly following in the distance.
See the dog and butterfly
Up in the air he likes to fly
Dog and butterfly, below she had to try
She roll back down to the warm soft
Ground with a little tear in her eye
She had to try, she had to try
Dog and butterfly
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