She is perfect exactly because my vision of her has been timeless. In my imagination I have been constantly aware that my companion-to-be lives only in the moment. I have drilled this into my own consciousness. Thus I am prepared to accept her exactly as she is, each second, without recourse to blame or to design, for she has no such awareness of her own. She is literally faultless and I welcome her on her terms.
What is true for very young puppies can also be true for our other people, in some ways. Most of all, I am responsible for my own thoughts and actions. The puppy tests this as she grows. She does learn. She joins a narrative in progress, even as part of me resists. In narrative is judgment, tragedy. So I reach for a larger narrative still.
I come full-circle. On the one hand, Puppy is a germ of life, all instinct, a silken roly-poly with barracuda teeth at one end and a yin-yang tail at the other. If it were a computer, it would reset with every tick of the CPU clock, and I reset with her, discovering life anew every second.
On the other hand, Puppy is Dog -- companion to Person, though she is a Person, too. This is a narrative of 10,000 years, and ours a bit part. Puppy picks up where Dog left off, sire to dam, dam to sire. Her wolflike forebear crept into the firelight, and stayed.