The Art of Racing in the Rain

by Garth Stein

Because memory is time folding back on itself. To remember is to disengage from the present.

Such a simple concept, yet so true: that which we manifest is before us; we are the creators of our own destiny. Be it through intention or ignorance, our successes and our failures have been brought on by none other than ourselves.

I had always wanted to love Eve as Denny loved her, but I never had because I was afraid. She was my rain. She was my unpredictable element. She was my fear. But a racer should not be afraid of rain; a racer should embrace the rain. I, alone, could manifest a change in that which was around me. By changing my mood, my energy, I allowed Eve to regard me differently. And while I cannot say that I am a master of my own destiny, I can say that I have experienced a glimpse of mastery, and I know what I have to work toward.

I cannot speak, so I listen very well. I never interrupt, I never deflect the course of the conversation with a comment of my own. People, if you pay attention to them, change the direction of one another’s conversations constantly.

Learn to listen! I beg of you. Pretend you are a dog like me and listen to other people rather than steal their stories.

“Get me through tonight,” she said. “That’s all I need. Protect me. Don’t let it happen tonight. Enzo, please. You’re the only one who can help.” I will, I said. “You’re the only one. Don’t worry about that nurse; I sent her home.” I looked over to the corner, and the crinkly old woman was gone. “I don’t need her,” she said. “Only you can protect me. Please. Don’t let it happen tonight.” I didn’t sleep at all that night. I stood guard, waiting for the demon to show his face. The demon was coming for Eve, but he would have to get past me first, and I was ready.

The true hero is flawed. The true test of a champion is not whether he can triumph, but whether he can overcome obstacles—preferably of his own making—in order to triumph. A

People are always worried about what’s happening next. They often find it difficult to stand still, to occupy the now without worrying about the future. People are not generally satisfied with what they have; they are very concerned with what they are going to have. A dog can almost power down his psyche and slow his anticipatory metabolism,

“There is no dishonor in losing the race,” Don said. “There is only dishonor in not racing because you are afraid to lose.”

The race is long. It is better to drive within oneself and finish the race behind the others than it is to drive too hard and crash.

My life seems like it has been so long and so short at the same time. People speak of a will to live. They rarely speak of a will to die. Because people are afraid of death. Death is dark and unknown and frightening. But not for me. It is not the end.

I don’t want Denny to worry about me. I don’t want to force him to take me on a one-way visit to the vet. He loves me so much. The worst thing I could possibly do to Denny is make him hurt me. The concept of euthanasia has some merit, yes, but it is too fraught with emotion.

My soul has learned what it came to learn, and all the other things are just things. We can’t have everything we want. Sometimes, we simply have to believe.

Denny is so very sad; he will miss me so much. I would rather stay with him and Zoë here in the apartment and watch the people on the street below as they talk to each other and shake each other’s hands. “You’ve always been with me,” Denny says to me. “You’ve always been my Enzo.” Yes. I have. He’s correct. “It’s okay,” he says to me. “If you need to go now, you can go.”

I feel his warm breath on my neck, his hands. He leans down to me, though I can no longer see him, he leans down to my ear. The fields are so large I could run forever in one direction and then run forever back. There is no end to these fields. “It’s okay, boy,” he says softly,

—I remember! This documentary said that after a dog dies, his soul is released into the world around us. His soul is released to run in the world, run through the fields, enjoy the earth, the wind, the rivers, the rain, the sun, the— When a dog dies, his soul is released to run until he is ready to be reborn. I remember. “It’s okay.” When I am reborn as a man, I will find Denny. I will find Zoë. I will walk up to them and shake their hands and tell them that Enzo says hello. They will see. “You can go.”