The 2016 Masters golf tournament was played this past weekend.
There were many fine shots, angst, gorgeous scenery, exciting moments and a nail-biting ending.
But I was in a bit of a fog whenever I tuned in to watch. And I know why.
On July 18th, 2015 our golden retriever Molly passed away after an almost fifteen year life with my wife and me. The British Open was being broadcast the weekend she left us behind on this planet and Sally was traveling. Molly was not her usual self and I knew she was coming to the end of her life.
It was almost surreal sitting beside her, watching golfers stride the course, hour after hour... my mind on Molly... running through so many memories with her.
One memory very vivid to me was a trip we took to Florida ten or more years ago. I took her for a walk at the end of the day along the golf course behind where we were staying. All the players had passed and so we had the entire eleventh hole to ourselves.
I tossed Molly's tennis ball as far as I could and, as usual, she tore after it in a flash of golden fur. At about fifty feet away, she appeared to slow, then disappeared from my view, only to reappear a moment later, in pursuit of the ball.
As I ran towards her I noticed the obstacle... a bunker about eight feet deep, hidden from my earlier viewpoint.
Clearly Molly had sized up that she could make the leap, and pressed on through the sand, in pursuit of her ball.
This was a defining characteristic of our golden girl. She was all in - all the time... and as a result, she lived a life of courage, exploration and... fun.
I know there is some disagreement over who first coined the phrase below (I'll go with Twain for now) -
Mark Twain: Golf is a good walk spoiled. —The Saturday Evening Post
For me, I think I will leave that analysis to golfers... my favorite walk was with a sweet golden named Molly. And I would say we likely took over ten thousand walks together during her lifetime.
Not one of them spoiled.
