The Invitation

To the question have you ever been called, I would suggest we all have at various points in our lives even before our arrival in this particular lifetime. Perhaps a better question is have you been listening…? And an even better question could be have you been asking?

I recall clearly the invitation (more like directive) for my presence here in the high plains of northern New Mexico. I perceived this message as coming from the Sangre de Cristo mountain range as I was driving along it on my way back to my Colorado home from Arizona. I’ve always taken the backroads and on this occasion I decided to drive with the range in sight for as long as I could. Something almost magnetic was calling my attention to the range as if it were one long entity I was in communication with. Whatever was being communicated was mostly under the bandwidth of my conscious mind though I heard and saw two main things: First was the message that I would/needed to live there, where, somewhere in the area I was then driving through (which was roughly Tres Piedras). Next I saw the face of what appeared to be a wolf or wolf-dog? The name “Enki” was given. My reaction was typical of myself at the time—both overly literal and pragmatic. Ok, sounds great, I thought, but how can I pull this off when I work 20 hours a day maintaining my little empire in Colorado? And, it that a wolf? I’m supposed to find a wolf??

When I returned from my trip, I immediately started looking for a “wolf” or something similar. Every town I drove through I stopped int the animal shelters and would leave in tears. I dabbled in wolf-dog rescue and nothing was quite right, until... one day I received a text from my mother, a person I usually avoided any engagement with. She sent a text saying that her young dog’s littermate had an “oops” litter of 3 and here was a picture. Out off the three fuzzy larvae, my attention was immediately drawn to one. Thats’s my boy! I responded. She didn't comprehend at first. I insisted with fervor and asked that she get me in contact with the breeder (which I knew her dog was from though I was looking in shelters). Her response was typical of her: You can’t have a dog. Nearly 4 decades later she’s up to the same and I just navigate around it. Sure, fine, but who is this posting this picture, where is this dog from? Perhaps in response to seeing my excitement, she would not divulge any more info. Only later, after much persistence on my part, she would tell me—almost gleefully—that the dog had been sold. I couldn’t and wouldn’t believe it. The plan was the plan after all…

I went about my days attending to my many pressing obligations at the time with an ever-persistent background sense that this boy, the specific fuzzy larva of a pup (he looked nothing like the “wolf” in my mind at the time), was meant for me, that this was the “Enki”. I had to laugh at myself for continuing to harbor such a fantasy, but I just did, without sense and without reason. If nothing else, it gave me a warm and giddy feeling throughout an otherwise stressful day. Just get over it one might say, but I am not that one. I held that warm little ember of a notion, that little heart-spark, closely in my hands like a precious child as if both our lives depended upon it. Weeks later I would get a call from said “mother” that the couple who purchased this pup just showed up to pick him up and rejected him at first sight because they were promised a long-hair German Shepherd and his coat, though appearing long to this professional breeder of decades, ended up short. They specifically wanted a long-hair male to replace the one they had who’d recently passed. This aesthetic fixation worked in my favor. Perhaps a hair modification was arranged on my behalf? I can only guess this was the case. Though her typical waitlist was in the hundreds for her dogs, the breeder immediately contacted my mother to let know that the dog was suddenly available and hers if she wanted him. At 10 weeks old now he needed to be paid for and picked up within the week. This mother of mine must have enquired about him. I was grateful for that. And though she still would allow no direct contact between myself and the breeder, she used the funds I sent her to pay for the dog and get him personally. Ha, ha! Never did I imagine this “wolf” in my mind was actually a purebred German Shepherd of royal lineage, but he his. I will add though, upon encountering one pure wolf and a wolf sanctuary owner, Enki goes wild with excitement as if they’re his true brethren.

Finding Enki came about 3 years after he first appeared in my mind.