His Dogness

I had an appointment with my family doctor the other morning. I had taken the first appointment of the day so that I could go on in to work without throwing off the day unduly.

The nurse had already taken care of her part – checking my blood pressure and blood oxygen – and gone her way, saying that the doctor would be in shortly to see me.

I was sitting in the little room by myself, thinking the sort of thoughts you think while sitting in a tiny room with outdated magazines waiting for the doctor to come in.

Only a minute or two had gone by when I heard my doctor singing out in the hallway. Hollow-core doors seem to be standard for those little rooms so I could hear him quite well. He had a pleasant singing voice. I recognized the song but could not tell you its name.

But that doesn’t matter. What matters is that I was about to be seen by a doctor who started his work day by singing. A doctor who feels that good about his work is just the sort of doctor you want to see.

Plus, for a second there, I caught a whiff of a day to come when I will feel like singing when I go to work.

He hadn’t even turned the knob to the door and, already, he had given me a healing gift.