Otro Mundo. Tarzan
Once upon a time there was a dog.
For seven years he lived in a makeshift shelter in the middle of a field.
Surrounded by chickens, dust, fleas and loneliness. Full of wounds and scratches, never cured.
His world was small.
Painfully small.
And then there were two people.
Living a life that looked very different.
Cities.
Airports.
Meetings.
Presentations.
Fine restaurants.
Long days.
Late nights.
A life many would have considered successful.
Their world was much bigger.
Or so it seemed.
The dog and the two people might have never met.
Their paths might have never crossed.
Tarzan might have spent the rest of his life in that field.
We might have spent the rest of ours moving from airport to airport, meeting to meeting, achievement to achievement.
From one success to the next.
From one disappointment to the next.
Always moving.
Always chasing.
Always convinced that fulfilment was waiting somewhere further down the road.
We remember Sunday evenings before another flight.
Not excitement.
Not anticipation.
Just the quiet wish that the next two or three days would pass as quickly as possible.
As if life itself could be fast-forwarded.
We remember sitting in conference rooms, looking around and thinking:
What am I doing here?
I don't want to be here.
Tarzan would never have discovered the dog he was always meant to become.
And we might have continued looking for happiness without realising that what we were really searching for was peace.
What saddens us most today is not what Tarzan endured.
It is what almost never happened.
The joy.
The curiosity.
The affection.
The boundless enthusiasm for a simple walk.
The dog he was always meant to become.
All of it could so easily have been missed.
All of it was already there.
Hidden beneath years of neglect.
Waiting.
Like a seed that had never been given the chance to grow
When Tarzan first came to live with us, we quickly realised that he had never really learned how to be a dog.
He did not know what to do with toys.
He showed no interest in balls.
Walks confused him.
After a few steps he would simply stop, looking around as if he had no idea what was expected of him.
The things most dogs learn naturally had never been part of his world.
Play.
Trust.
Affection.
Love.
Everything that seemed obvious to other dogs was, for Tarzan, a discovery.
A revelation.
Another world
Slowly, things began to change.
Today it is impossible to mention the word walk without causing complete chaos.
The mere sight of a ball is enough to send him into a frenzy of excitement.
He races across Playa de Las Canteras near Órzola, one of the most beautiful and least known beaches in Lanzarote, as if trying to make up for lost time.
He follows us from room to room.
Waits patiently when we leave.
And greets us with such joy when we return that his tail appears to have a life of its own.
Watching him now, it is impossible not to wonder how much of life can remain hidden inside a living being, simply because nobody ever gave it the chance to emerge.
Perhaps that is why his story feels strangely familiar.
Not because our lives were the same.
They were not.
But because potential can be lost in many different ways.
Sometimes in a shack in the middle of a field.
Sometimes in a life that appears successful from the outside.
People often say that dogs teach us how to enjoy the simple things in life.
Water.
Walks.
A ball.
The company of those we love.
Perhaps that is true.
But before Tarzan could teach us any of those things, he first had to discover them himself.
And he continues to discover them every single day.
Just as we do.
There is something profoundly humbling about being loved by a dog.
Not because you are successful.
Not because you are wealthy.
Not because you are attractive, fit, intelligent or important.
A dog does not care about any of those things.
Tarzan has never asked what we do for a living.
He has never asked how much money we earn.
He has never cared whether a project succeeds or fails.
Whether we are having a good day or a bad one.
Whether we look our best or feel our worst.
His measure of success is remarkably simple.
When are they finally coming home?
Sometimes we think that we rescued Tarzan.
Looking back, we are no longer so sure.
He was waiting for us.
We were waiting for him.
Every day, Tarzan reminds us what really matters.
What really, REALLY matters.
